


not a date

by flashytonystark



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, Iron Man - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boss/Employee Relationship, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Iron Man 1, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) is a Good Bro, Kink Meme, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pepperony Bingo 2020, Sexual Humor, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, not iron man 1 compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 35,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23740945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashytonystark/pseuds/flashytonystark
Summary: Pepper Potts has it all: a nice house, a great paying job, a pain in the ass, yet rather attractive boss. But that isallTony Stark is to her. They don't do dates or have secret best friend conversations or steal glances at each other from across the room — their relationship isstrictlyprofessional . . . until one day it isn't.For the LJ KinkMeme Prompt: "Pepper sleeping with Tony while she’s still his PA."
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Obadiah Stane & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 92
Kudos: 93





	1. the proposition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [violawrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violawrites/gifts).



> A quick note about the timeline:
> 
> You'll notice that while this clearly takes place during the events of Iron Man (post-Afghanistan), other major events from the source material have been left out (such as Obadiah's involvement) and Pop Culture references may not always necessarily match up with the year of the source material . These changes, while subtle, have been made with purpose.
> 
> Like all good writers, I've taken some creative liberties with the characters and their settings to better enhance the story.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has a proposition for Pepper.

“Oh, I don’t know, probably because you’re my boss and that’s wildly inappropriate.”

“No, but see, here’s the thing. It _is_ appropriate. Like, so appropriate, Potts. Because it’s not a date.”

“It’s not a date?”

“Nope. If it was a date, it would be wildly inappropriate, and while Stark Industries has some of the best lawyers on retainer, I’d rather not lose my best and brightest personal assistant.”

“I’m your _only_ personal assistant.”

“Exactly. And a damn fine PA you are. You’ve been with me the longest, you know.”

“Please, don’t remind me.”

“Why are you rummaging around on the floor anyway?”

“Because I’m your assistant.”

“Potts, please. The only way you could assist me while being on your knees is —.”

“That’s enough of that.”

“I was just saying! Not that I expect that from you. God, no. Again, you’re great, you look fantastic — especially when you wear that blue dress, you know the one — but I’m not looking for a sexual harassment lawsuit or another round of interviews for a new assistant.”

“You weren’t even there for my interview.”

“Semantics, Potts. Now tell me why you’re on the floor.”

“Obadiah asked me to look for some paperwork. My guess is it got mixed up with something during the merger last October.”

“So he has you crawling around on the floor of a dirty storage unit looking for something _he_ shouldn’t have lost in the first place? Absolutely not. On your feet, Potts.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal, Tony.”

“As your boss, I say get up. I’ll put an intern on this little project and Obie will be none the wiser. Also as your boss, what do you say to my earlier proposition?”

“And it’s not a date?”

“Definitely . . . Maybe not a date.”

“Tony!”

“I’m kidding, relax! It’s not a date.”

“Fine. It’s not a date.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“You can pick me up at eight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated and gifted to the ever wonderful [violawrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violawrites/pseuds/violawrites), my amazing beta reader for all things Pepperony.
> 
> Sorry for all the angst I've been throwing at you lately, hopefully this makes up for it.


	2. eight o'clock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony picks up Pepper for their not-date.
> 
> Lots of fluff, and cute, witty banter.

Eight o’clock comes far too quickly for Pepper but she’s on her front porch and waiting because there is _absolutely no way in hell_ she is allowing her boss to even consider getting a glimpse into her house.

Pepper Potts does not mix business with pleasure, not that she considers this _pleasurable_ by any stretch of the imagination. It is purely business, a last ditch attempt at affording herself at least a little bit of sanity in the workplace.

Tony is . . . complicated. Complex. Even more so now that he’s harboring a secret identity that only a close few are aware of. Pepper, unfortunately, is one of those people and it stresses her to no end, knowing that Tony could potentially get himself blown up or accidentally ousted to the media. He’s never been good at keeping his mouth shut and alcohol is a very good motivator when it comes to getting him to loosen his lips just a bit more than they already are on a normal day.

She hasn’t seen him with a woman in nearly three months which has meant he’s been at the office more and in the workshop less — though he’s getting far less sleep, if that’s even possible. He’s driving her crazy, constantly rearranging her schedule so she can be with him in meetings that she has no business being in, and interrupting her conference calls with the insistence that she help him on the R&D floor.

And now, because she can never really say no to her boss, she’s stuck going on a not-date with him in lieu of a handful of big breasted blondes.

Progress is progress, right?

Tony is late, which comes as no surprise to Pepper, but grates on her nerves nonetheless. The least he could do is be on time and pick her up like a gentleman.

_This is not a date._

Right, it’s not a date. But Pepper is never late and she’s always there at Tony’s beck and call and it would _be nice_ if he could, for once, take her feelings into consideration.

Pepper huffs in annoyance and crosses her arms over her chest while she waits. It’s the sound of squealing tires on asphalt at the end of her quiet suburban street that alert her to Tony’s arrival before he even pulls in her driveway.

Tonight he’s driving the Audi, all black and sleek and far too expensive. It’s a bit over the top for Pepper’s taste, but even she knows how to appreciate a nice car when she sees one.

“Potts!”

“It’s about time you got here,” Pepper says, annoyed. “I’ve been waiting nearly fifteen minutes and now we’re going to be late.”

“If you’d stop talking and get in the car, we won’t be late,” he tells her, already shifting gears before Pepper has even gotten her door closed.

“You know the rules when I’m in the car,” she warns, fastening her seatbelt. “Always use your turn signal, no rolling stops at stop signs. You’re allowed to go five miles above the speed limit but that’s it.”

“Ten!”

“Five!”

“Ten!”

“Fine, two.”

“You can’t do that, Pepper! You can’t lower the number after you already said five!”

“Then it’s settled. Five miles over. No more.”

“You are the worst.”

“What happened to me being the best and brightest?”

“Best and brightest _personal assistant._ World’s _worst_ copilot.”

“Well forgive me for wanting to live to see another day.”

“I just want to let you know that if we’re late, it’s your fault.”

“My fault?! How is it my fault?!”

“Because you’re making me drive ridiculously slow.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“Infuriatingly handsome.”

“You can be infuriating and you can be handsome. But you can’t be infuriatingly handsome.”

“Do my ears deceive me, or did _the_ Virginia Alice Potts just refer to me as _handsome_?”

“Nope, now I want to take it back.”

“Too late, you can’t. Those are the rules, Potts. You said it and now it’s true. You think I’m infuriatingly handsome.”

“That’s _not_ what I said.”

“Oh whatever. You might as well have.”

“Let me guess, semantics?”

“Exactly.”

“For the record, I have never said you were _unattractive._ I can be objective, unlike the other women you tend to ogle.”

“Are you saying I ogle you, Potts?”

“No because that would be an expensive sexual harassment lawsuit and you don’t want that.”

“You’re too good to me, Potts.”

“I know. Now take your foot off the accelerator. It’s only fifty through here, not fifty-seven.”


	3. tom cruise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark is a _very_ big fan of Tom Cruise and Pepper doesn't understand the obsession.

Tony has this weird thing about movie theaters. He likes them, likes getting out of the house and vegging out on popcorn in a darkened room where no one can see him while he just shuts his brain off for a couple of hours. It’s a nice sentiment, one he wishes he could take advantage of more often, but he’s been in the papers far too much recently to even begin considering leaving his house without an entire team of bodyguards.

Or in this case, Pepper.

How he’d managed to talk her into doing this with him was far beyond his comprehension, but he’s not complaining. She set up everything ahead of time, thorough as ever, and he’s so grateful for her to be doing this and accompanying him on this not-date to see the newest installment in the _Mission: Impossible_ series. He can’t help it, he loves Tom Cruise and he loves him even more when he can watch him in IMAX. 

Still, for all the fun movie theaters can be, Tony still has a weird thing about them. Pepper is the only one who knows he can’t stand to sit in a seat that’s not leather — only because he insists on it being wiped down _thoroughly_ beforehand — and he can’t stand being too close to the screen. People who sit mere rows from the bottom are savages in Tony’s eyes. He likes the third row from the top, eighth seat in from the aisle, nine if he has a guest (which is rare). He likes for there to be plenty of legroom in the space between his seat and the one in front of his so he can slump down, and the seat to his left _always_ has to remain empty, so he buys it too.

So yeah, Tony Stark has a thing about movie theaters. But he likes them anyway, so he keeps going.

“Do you have our tickets?” He asks Pepper, fingers flexing on the steering wheel of the Audi as traffic comes to a crawl in front of them.

“They’re on my phone, Tony.” Pepper’s voice is soft, though it carries a slight hint of annoyance. Annoyance at the traffic, at him being late, at him asking her about the tickets for the _fourth time._

“Okay good, because you know I have that thing.”

“I know all about your little quips. Stop worrying about it, it’s under control.”

Tony is silent through four traffic lights and a stop sign before he speaks again and some of his earlier enthusiasm has seemed to returned for the time being.

“So I was thinking, we should get Tom Cruise to stop by the office one day, see if he’d be interested in doing a bit of promotional work for the company. Billboards, commercials, radio ads. Stuff like that.”

“Tony, we had this discussion the last time a _Mission: Impossible_ film came out and you were told no. What's with your obsession with him anyway?”

“But Potts! We were making weapons then. Now I’ve shut that part down and went completely green. We live in California, all of the celebrities want to jump in on this bandwagon! We’re _the_ liberal state, baby. Tom Cruise wants to get his hands all over this, I’m sure of it. And for the record, I am not _obsessed_ with him. He makes classic movies and looks good doing it! Have you ever seen _Top Gun_? A masterpiece, Potts. An absolute masterpiece.”

“One, do not ever call be ‘baby’ again. Two, no. Tom Cruise is far too expensive and there’s no way the board would ever approve such a blatant misuse of company funds. Three, _Top Gun_ wasn't even that good.”

This is a common discussion between Tony and Pepper and she wonders why she continues to have it with him when all he ever wants to do is argue with her. She doesn’t want to argue, not on a Friday night and certainly not on their not-date, so she quickly changes the subject to something far safer.

“You gonna buy me popcorn and one of those big gulps or not?”

“What is this, some kind of test?” Tony looks over at Pepper briefly, his eyes narrowed.

“Look at the road, not at my face. No, it’s not a test.”

“Then no, I’m not buying you popcorn or a big gulp.”

“Well that’s rude! After all the work I put in for this and —.”

“I can’t buy you that stuff. This isn’t a date, remember? Buying you popcorn and drinks makes it a date.”

“Buy it for me anyway and take it out of my paycheck. Then it’s not a date.”

“Not a date?”

“Nope, not a date.”


	4. the butter incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark learns all about the stop-delay feature some movie theater butter machines have, which leads to him having what he can only think of as a slight religious experience.

_This is not a date. This is not a date. This is not a date._

Those are the precise words Tony has to keep repeating to himself as he stands at the concession counter, jacket collar pulled up around his ears and hat pulled down over his eyes as he tries to go unnoticed, not that there are many people in the theater lobby at this time of night. He wanted to wear a dark pair of Aviators to complete the look, but Pepper told him to leave them in the car because the glasses made him look like the Unabomber.

So far, his altered disguise is working in his favor.

_This is not a date. This is not a date. This is not a date._

Dates mean fancy cars and fancy drinks and food and laughter and subtle touches. Dates mean picking pretty girls up from their houses and promising to have them home by eleven. But this? This is not a date.

Tony’s car might be fancy, but all of his cars are fancy, so he’s exempt from this classification. He doesn’t consider popcorn and big gulps to be fancy either, though he’s not sure what Pepper feels on that front — and no, he doesn’t plan on asking her either. Besides, she said he could take the money directly out of her next paycheck. And he certainly hasn’t _touched_ Pepper. He values the use of his hands, thankyouverymuch.

Granted, he did pick her up from her house, but it was easier. She lives closer to the theater so it would’ve been silly to backtrack. And Pepper is an adult, no curfew. So that means, by definition, this is not a date. 

“Two large popcorns and two of the big gulps. Diet Coke for my friend here and regular for me,” he says, handing over his credit card.

Either the teenager taking his money doesn’t notice the name printed on the card or he doesn’t care. Either way, Tony’s just glad he doesn’t get asked for an autograph.

“Tony,” Pepper whispers, poking him in the side with her index finger. “Tell them I want extra butter on my popcorn. I’m going to go check on our theater arrangements.”

“Potts! No!”

Tony turns quickly around to stop her, but Pepper has already bounced off toward another kid accepting tickets. He watches as Pepper takes out her BlackBerry and shows the kid something on the screen before she starts talking wildly with her hands like she’s known to do.

Tony hates when Pepper leaves him alone in strange and uncomfortable situations. Sometimes he thinks she does it on purpose just to force him outside of his comfort zone. 

“Here you are, sir. Anything else?”

“Shit, yes. I forgot to ask. Can I have extra butter on one of these?”

“There’s a self-serve station right behind you.”

“Oh, thanks.”

Tony looks around, spots the station full of salt shakers and napkins and extra straws and tries to balance everything as he carries both containers of popcorn and drinks over to the small table. He’s never had to do this before and it’s only mildly inconveniencing.

He figures the oil slicked tower contains the extra butter Pepper so badly wants, so he sticks her bucket of popcorn beneath the pump and presses the red button. Warm butter comes down in a steady stream, right in the middle of Pepper’s popcorn, so Tony hurriedly tries to move the bucket and nearly manages to knock it over in the process. As he scrambles to catch the popcorn before it completely upends and winds up on the floor, his hand goes straight under the stream of butter right before the stop-delay kicks off because _of course_ that’s how this is going to go.

“Damn it.”

“Hey, everything’s all set,” comes Pepper’s voice from behind and Tony looks over at her and scowls.

“You just had to have extra butter, didn’t you?”

“Well yeah. What’s the . . . oh,” she says, stifling a laugh when she sees his hand. “Oh my God, okay. Hold on, let me help.”

With a quick and expert touch, Pepper manages to use the last four napkins in the holder to clean Tony’s hand and fix her container of popcorn so the butter is in more than just the middle. Before tossing the oil-slicked napkins, she uses the one clean corner to go around her bucket to wipe up any she may have missed. She grabs the drinks once finished, the straws stuffed in her jacket pocket, and sets off toward the theaters.

“Ugh, Pepper.” Tony is practically whining at her as he follows along, containers popcorn in either hand. “You missed a spot on this bucket of yours and I just got my finger in butter again and we don’t have any napkins.”

“What? Let me see,” she says, stopping in front of the doors with the small LED sign indicating the theater number and movie they’re about to see.

Tony lifts his hand holding the bucket to her eye level so he can show her, his index finger sticking out and glistening with butter.

“Well, you’re not wrong. You definitely got more on you.”

“What? Of course I’m not wrong! You missed it!”

“It’s not my fault there were only four napkins left and I was more concerned with your butter saturated _hand_. We’re at the last showing for the night, those kids don’t care about restocking anything right now. They just want the last movie showings of the night to wrap up so they can go home. They don’t care about straws or napkins.”

“I demand a refund.”

“Shut up, you don’t. Though I don’t know what you want me to do about this. My hands are just as full as yours.”

“Pepper, I’m going to get this shit all over me and then it’s going to stain.”

“Oh stop complaining, you are not.”

“How am I going to get it off then? Because I know you won’t let me wipe my hands on that expensive looking shirt of yours.”

“Like this.”

Tony Stark swears his life flashes before his eyes and he sees the _Almighty God Himself_ in the two seconds it takes for Pepper to step forward and take his finger in her mouth all the way up to his last knuckle. He freezes, not knowing how to react or if he should react _at all_ , so he just stands there, a bit dumbfounded. Pepper has done a lot of bizarre things for him during her tenure at Stark Industries — this is certainly not one of them.

She pulls back once she’s made sure to get the last of the butter off his finger, licks at what’s left of the butter on her popcorn bucket, and nudges the door to their theater open with her hip and elbow while Tony continues to stand there and stare after her.

He should not be standing there, thinking about Pepper — _his assistant_ — and the way her tongue moved along his finger or the way she hollowed her cheeks. But _dear God,_ he hadn’t been expecting it and now that’s all he can focus on when he shouldn’t be.

He should be focusing on Tom Cruise and the guns and the violence. Not on the mouth of the woman he almost kissed _one time_ who practically just demonstrated in three seconds flat what he can only assume are her _exquisite_ blowjob skills on _his finger._

These are not thoughts he should be having, yet here he is, doing just that. If he’s honest, it’s probably the hottest thing he’s seen since the blue dress and he hopes this new image is burned into his brain for years to come, Tom Cruise be damned.

But still, this is not a date.


	5. flipped switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper's little stunt has officially flipped a switch in Tony's brain and he doesn't know how to turn it off.

Doing his best to keep his cool, Tony heads in the direction Pepper went and spots her turning into the third row from the top, counting the seats as she goes. She pulls the armrests down into place using a combination of wrists and elbows and even a knee, setting their drinks in the cup holders once she’s able.

Surprisingly, no one else is in the theater despite the fact that it’s a Friday night. Tony attributes the blissfully empty theater to two factors: one, it’s the last showing of the night and two, the movie has been in theaters for nearly six weeks.

He takes the steps two at a time until he reaches their row and slides into the seat next to Pepper. She’s unwrapping their straws, so he patiently waits to hand over her popcorn, his eyes flicking to her mouth as she pulls her own straw out of the paper with her teeth. A shudder runs up his spine as he thinks about her teeth sinking into his —

_ Jesus, Tony. You’re her boss. _

“Thanks,” Pepper says cheerfully, taking her popcorn from Tony and knocking him out of his thoughts. He still hasn’t been able to properly formulate words, so he quickly shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth and just nods at her in response.

Pepper’s attention is on the movie screen, watching the previews-before-the-previews with rapt attention, when Tony finally speaks up.

“Will we be the only ones in here, Potts?”

“The kid at the ticket counter wouldn’t tell me, but if I had to guess, no. It might be the last showing of the night, but I’d bet there are people who still haven’t seen it yet. Not that it matters; the theater certainly isn’t going to be crowded, maybe ten other people at most, so it still affords us plenty of privacy.”

Tony knows she doesn’t mean the word ‘ _us’_ as in, the two of them . . . together, but that doesn’t mean that’s not the first place his mind goes. She does have a point about the whole privacy thing though. Tony likes his privacy, always has. He thinks he’d like his privacy even more if it was just him and Pepper in a dark movie theater, but he can’t always get what he wants, despite how much money he can throw at things.

Raising her fingers to her mouth, Pepper licks them clean of salt and butter before leaning forward slightly to take a drink of her Diet Coke without taking it from the cup holder. Her hair is up and tossed over her other shoulder, affording Tony a great view of her jaw, the curve of it, and he wonders what she would do if he were to lean over right now and kiss her.

But he doesn’t because one, kissing comes with dates and this is not a date and two, he would like to breathe without the aid of a machine for the rest of his life.

Pepper has been _the ultimate_ champion from the day she was first hired and he finds it sexy as hell how she has no problem holding her own against some of the biggest assholes at Stark Industries, himself included. She’d been working for him for a grand total of nine days before she called him out on his shit in a way no one else had ever dared, and he’s placed her on a pedestal ever since, someone to be cherished and respected. Pepper is the only assistant he’s never slept with, but he’d be lying if he said he’s _never_ thought of her in ways outside of her strict job title; the big difference now is, his thoughts have never been quite like these. There has always been a clear and defined role for both of them — Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts — but now . . . after her little show with her mouth? It’s as if she’s flipped a switch and Tony Stark knows fuck all about what he should do.

Seemingly out of the blue, Pepper turns in her seat toward Tony and lowers her voice despite still being the only ones in the theater. She doesn’t want to risk someone coming in and overhearing her question that would certainly arouse a bit of public speculation; the last thing anyone needs right now is for rumors to start beyond the typical ‘who-is-Tony-Stark-sleeping-with-this-week’ garbage published in the Enquirer.

“Hey, how’s our . . . little friend doing? Everything okay?”

Tony Stark knows for a _fact_ that Pepper is talking about the RT beneath his shirt and the fact that it tends to glow through just about everything he layers over it. They’ve had to come up with rather creative ways to hide it lately and naturally she’s asking questions. They’re going to be in a dark room for a couple of hours with complete strangers, after all. They need to be sure all their bases are covered if they don’t want alert the public to Tony’s _other_ little friend and alter ego, Iron Man.

Despite that knowledge, Tony can’t help himself. He blames the butter and her mouth and her _tongue_ for this sudden change in attitude.

“Excuse me, Ms. Potts. But there is hardly anything little about him.”

“I wasn’t talking about your penis, Tony.”

He does, at least, have the decency to cringe and look sheepishly at her.

“Don’t call him that.”

“Well I’m certainly not calling it _Little Tony._ ”

“Good, because that would be a gross understatement.”

Pepper sighs one of her tired and irate sighs, and Tony starts thinking that maybe right now isn’t quite the time to push his luck with her. Maybe later, but not now.

“You know damn well I’m talking about the RT,” she says.

“Yeah, but we could be talking about something far more fun than that. Wanna compare notes?”

So about that whole _don’t push Pepper’s buttons, she’s clearly in a mood_ thing? Tony doesn’t know what it means to _not_ push her buttons even after deciding it’s not the wisest idea. It’s like she’s a 50 floor elevator and he’s a little kid on a sugar high, unable to keep himself from running his hands down every last button in one fluid motion, setting all of them alight.

It’s truly a miracle he’s lasted this long and Pepper hasn’t strangled him . . . or worse, turned in her two weeks’ notice.

If looks could kill, Tony Stark would’ve dropped dead right then and there in the movie theater without getting the chance to see Tom Cruise in action. Pepper’s head snaps around so hard and so fast it startles him and despite the daggers she’s staring into his soul, Tony is left wondering what it would be like for him to wrap her ponytail in his fist and just _pull._ He bets Pepper would be into it. She seems like that kind of girl.

_ Stop. Stop. Stop. This is not a date and this isn’t some random girl from a bar or a club. This is  _ Pepper, _the woman you owe your entire life to. Not some sleazy bimbo with extreme daddy issues._

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what? I’m not looking at you like anything. I always look at you like this.”

“No, normally your eyes are glazed over. You have a shit-eating grin on your face right now. It’s creepy. Stop looking at me like that. Pay attention to the movie.”

“The movie isn’t even on yet.”

It’s the sound of voices that silences their little back-and-forth of bickering and Pepper goes back to watching the previews while the few other people who decided to come see the movie file in and find their seats. He counts them as they enter the theater, seven in all, and watches where they sit. No one is in the two rows behind them and the closest ones — a young couple — are at least six rows below.

Good to know.

Tony can hardly pay attention to the trivia questions playing on the screen, far too busy stealing quick glances at Pepper out of the corner of his eye. She seems completely oblivious to his internal dialogue and thoughts — which is a good thing — but he really wishes the lights would hurry up and go down so he can turn his attention to the full-on testosterone fest he’s about to witness and not on the mouth of the woman sitting next to him.

Even if he purposely keeps his thoughts from wandering to completely inappropriate places, Tony still finds himself wondering what Pepper’s lips would feel like against his own and how she would kiss him. He thinks she’d taste minty, something fresh and clean, but also with a kick. That seems the most like Pepper, at least in Tony’s mind.

It doesn’t make sense, the sudden urge he has to just push her against a wall and kiss her into utter oblivion. He’s always found Pepper attractive, from the very first day she arrived in a pantsuit. But he’s _never ever_ entertained thoughts quite like these and now it’s almost like he can’t stop.

It’s as if his senses have been dialed to eleven, everything brighter and louder and in focus, but especially when Pepper is involved. He thinks of her strappy sandals and four inch heels she’s almost always wearing, and _sweet Jesus_ those legs.

No one has legs like Virginia Potts. Not a single soul in the universe other than Pepper possesses something so stunning, from the defined muscles in her calves all the way up to what he can only assume is Heaven itself. Tony Stark is not a religious man and has never claimed to be, but he’s willing to bet he’d go down on Pepper and come out singing the Lord’s praises.

And if she went down on him? He’ll know God really does exist.

Tony’s thoughts are starting to wander into places that are not movie theater appropriate. Shower appropriate? Yes. Movie theater? _No._

He sarcastically thanks whatever god is looking out for him as he shifts his bucket of popcorn in his lap while trying to think of anything and everything to cause his sudden and _not-so-little problem_ to go away.

_ Think of not sexy things. Like mandatory staff meetings and . . . no, Pepper always looks so good when she’s standing up there putting those jackasses into place.  _ Not _sexy things. Like . . . busted radiators and malfunctioning HUDs and Dum-E with a fire extinguisher. Like . . ._ Howard Stark. _Jesus, what a turn off._

As the lights go out and the movie trailers start to play, there’s a little less friction in Tony’s jeans . . . for now at least.

Turns out that Howard Stark isn’t completely useless.

Who knew?


	6. good karma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has a theory and he's determined to test it out.

The movie starts like any other action flick Tony has watched, all high intensity and suspense and all of the good things that get people sucked into the storylines. For Tony, action movies serve as a way for him to get close to that adrenaline high without actually donning the suit. He’d like to wear it more often, but with the insistence that he not from Rhodey and Pepper and Happy, he obliges . . . mostly.

Tom Cruise is the sweet, sweet balm for his near constant urge to lean over and kiss Pepper. She’s nearing the bottom of her popcorn where he doesn’t doubt at least an inch of melted butter is ready to meet her fingertips. He keeps glancing at her, wondering if he’s going to catch her licking at her fingers again. Well, at least until she catches him staring.

“What is wrong with you?” she whispers, pulling a leg up underneath her. She’s leaning across the armrest in order to get close enough to him so her voice doesn’t carry and Tony nearly groans with the thought of how close she is to him. If she wanted, she could nip at his earlobe and he’d be the same consistency as the butter she’d licked off his finger. God, he’s got to stop thinking about that.

_Not movie theater appropriate._

“Nothing’s wrong with me. I just want to make sure you’re enjoying the movie,” he grits out, literally lying through his teeth.

“Of course I’m enjoying the movie. Just because I said I didn’t like _Top Gun_ doesn’t mean I don’t like these movies.”

Pepper resumes her own personal space, her attention back on the movie and it’s only then that Tony can actually breathe again.

He’s bitter as he watches the film, angry that he can’t get completely absorbed into the fictional world in front of him without Pepper somehow invading his thoughts. He goes to the movies to unwind, to shut his brain _off_ , not make it work overtime in his own personal _fantasy department_. He believes this is truly an act of karma, though what he’s getting punished for, he honestly has no clue. He’s no longer making weapons at his company, so it can’t be that, and he left a rather generous tip to the kid who delivered his lunch to the office earlier that day. If anything, Tony should be receiving _good karma_ in response to his good behavior.

The more that he thinks about it (despite his best efforts to concentrate on Ethan Hunt), the more Tony is starting to wonder if this _isn’t_ his good karma. He decides that there’s no time like the present to test his little theory; there are few enough people in the theater that this should go over without any issue, unless of course, Pepper is against making out in a dark public place with him. If it was any other woman, she’d be in his lap without him even needing to ask. But Pepper is different which means he has to . . . play her a little differently, needs to get her in tune.

Tony likes to think of women as if they were classic cars: sweet, vintage, beautiful pieces of machinery that will purr all night under an expert touch. Pepper is by far his favorite to apply this metaphor to — she’s like a 1969 Camaro ZL1, a beautiful classic that’s hard to find and even harder to get. Only Pepper Potts could be likened to what Tony will argue is Chevy’s best model of the Camaro ever built; his dream car and his dream woman. He still can’t believe she agreed to this not-date.

And _that_ is what he likes to call good _carma,_ if you will.

Tony gets so wrapped up in car metaphors and Pepper and his sudden urge to drop 1.5 million on a car he really doesn’t need that he just barely registers the spectacular shot of Maggie Q getting out of a gorgeous Lamborghini Gallardo. Even Tony Stark knows how to appreciate Italian engineering. And that dress? Damn, Tony would love to see Pepper in that dress, but not in red, no, in blue — he loves it when she wears blue.

It’s Tony’s turn to lean over the armrest separating him from Pepper and she doesn’t look pleased when she turns her head in his direction. To his credit though, he keeps his voice incredibly soft when he speaks.

“What would you say if I had that same exact dress made just for you, but in blue?”

“And what would be the purpose?”

“You could wear it to the next big gala or fundraiser. I’d attend without even complaining.”

“Why, so you can ogle me?”

“I don’t ogle you, Potts.”

“In a dress like that you would.”

“I wouldn’t . . . unless you want me to ogle you. But you have to tell me first.”

“Yeah, yeah, expensive sexual harassment suits and all that.”

“Exactly. So do you want me to ogle you?”

“What I want is for you to turn around and pay attention to the movie.”

“I didn’t hear a ‘no’ in all that.”

And because Tony Stark can never do as he’s told, he leans the rest of the way across the armrest before Pepper can start whisper-lecturing him again and buries his face in the crook of her neck. He manages two-and-a-half kisses to her neck and underside of her jaw before he’s being pushed away with a hand. Ever the observant one, Tony notices Pepper’s other hand wrapped tightly around the armrest, her knuckles white from the strength of her grip. Her cheeks are flushed too, a stark contrast to her pale skin, even in a darkened movie theater.

“ _Tony!”_ The whisper is harsh and bordering on disruptive and Tony turns to Pepper with that same shit-eating grin on his face from earlier.

“ _Pepper_ ,” he replies, drawing out her name under his breath.

“Would you stop and just _watch the goddamn movie_?! Now is not the time for you to be acting like a fifteen year old boy on his first ever date!”

“I’m far more experienced than a fifteen year old, Potts.”

“Watch. The. Movie.” Pepper nearly spits each word as she says them, jamming her index finger at the screen.

“I’m not hearing you didn’t like it.”

“I’m not allowed to like it because one, _you’re my boss_ and two, _this is not a date_.”

This is a rare side to Pepper that Tony doesn’t normally get to see. A woman who is usually so refined and put-together and calculated, Pepper isn’t one to respond in such a defensive way. Tony has kissed her on the cheek numerous times, has twirled her around his office, and held her hand through a crowd of photographers and screaming press pools. They’ve had their borderline intimate moments together too, the balcony with the _almost kiss_ a few months back coming first to mind, but it wasn’t the first time something like that transpired between them and it hasn’t always been Pepper to initiate such things either.

Tony almost kissed her in the back of the Rolls Royce one evening after an office Christmas party he’d been roped into attending. There had been snow in Pepper’s hair and she was full of laughter and just a bit too much gin, Tony equally drunk on Scotch. She’d been the first one to get in the car, Tony right on her heels, and naturally he tripped, falling practically on top of her. They’d howled with laughter, Tony’s hands clumsily trying to simultaneously push himself and pull Pepper upright.

He’d almost kissed her then. Sometimes, he wishes he would have.

Tony doesn’t concentrate the rest of the movie, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he can’t.

He’s too busy remembering _the butter incident_ as he’s decided to call it, to focus on the guns and violence and all the normal shit adrenaline junkies like himself get off to. No, it’s not the high-speed chases that are raising his heart rate, it’s the thought of Pepper’s mouth that’s responsible.

He can’t stop thinking about the way Pepper reacted to his little experiment, the way she didn’t immediately shove him away. There had been a definite pause in that moment, a brief half second where Pepper actually lowered her guard enough to enjoy it. Tony would bet his entire controlling shares in Stark on the fact that the always poised and perfect Pepper Potts actually _enjoyed_ the way his mouth moved along her skin, even if she did only allow herself half a second to indulge in those feelings.

Good karma indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The movie is _Mission Impossible III_. I've never seen it and based the brief snippets of the movie included in this chapter on clips I watched on YouTube and research into the specific type of Lamborghini used in the film. Any mistakes are my own.
> 
> Yes, the Chevrolet 1969 Camaro ZL1 is a real car, and yes, it's one of the rarest models of the Camaro ever produced, as Chevy only manufactured 69 of them. They usually run between 1.1 and 1.7 million at auctions, hence the choice for the "drop[ping] 1.5 million on a car" line.
> 
> Also, shoutout to violawrites for suggesting the "carma" line, I'm not nearly as funny enough to come up with that kind of pun.


	7. front seat confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Pepper have somewhat of a heart-to-heart . . . with their mouths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happiest of birthdays to my favorite, [violawrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violawrites/pseuds/violawrites)! Enjoy.

Pepper is . . . not happy.

This comes as only a mild shock to Tony as they gather their trash after the movie has ended, the lights back on, the credits rolling. She’s eerily quiet, lips pursed into a _very_ straight line that’s so thin it actually puts Tony a bit on edge, but he’s smart enough to not even consider asking her if everything is alright.

They remain in their seats until the seven other movie-goers leave the theater. Under any other circumstance, Tony would chalk this move up to Pepper wanting to keep their privacy and Tony’s interactions with the general public at a minimum. But these are not normal circumstances and Tony can’t let go of the thought that Pepper is simply biding her time until they’re alone so she can kill him. 

As long as he dies by her mouth, Tony Stark will have lived a full and happy life.

Turns out, Tony’s first thought is correct; even when she’s pissed, Pepper is still looking out for him, as if it’s engrained into her sense of self. After the theater is empty, Pepper stands and marches out of the aisle and down the steps. Her trash is literally _chucked_ into the trash can and her hands fist into her jacket pockets as she leads Tony to the lobby and out to the parking lot.

It’s not until they reach the Audi that Pepper speaks.

Tony thanks every deity he can think of for the car that’s separating him from Pepper, her gaze bordering on cutthroat.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” She demands, slamming a hand hard against the roof of the Audi to stress the severity of her words even as Tony reaches out across the top of the car as if to stop her from bringing her hand down again.

“I mean, _what the fuck, Tony_?!”

“Pepper, look . . .”

“Oh no. You do not get to stand there and explain that shit away like it was nothing! I’m not one of those girls you bring home and sleep with in a separate bedroom. I’m your _goddamn personal assistant!”_

“Pep, if you would just let me ––.”

“Oh don’t you ‘Pep’ me. Get in the car. Take me home right now.”

Pepper pulls on the door handle and discovers that it’s still locked, but that doesn’t stop her from repeatedly yanking on it like a petulant child.

“Would you stop! I’m trying to unlock the doors!”

Pepper glares across the roof, absolutely seething, but she stops pulling on the handle until she hears the familiar click of the locks disengaging. She’s in the car, the door slammed shut harder than necessary, before Tony even has the opportunity to open his own door.

This is not what good karma is. This is bad karma, the kind that gets taken out on his car in the form of his angry, yet increasingly sexy, personal assistant. He shouldn’t be thinking this way, not when Pepper is two shades away from physical assault, but Tony Stark has never claimed to be able to control himself. 

He gets in the car with a caution reserved for dealing with pissed of PAs and irate board members, sitting as close to the door as he possibly can, though he’s still definitely within Pepper’s reach. Damn German engineering.

Tony breathes out as the engine turns over and braves a quick glance at Pepper, taking note of her hostile posture. Her back is ramrod straight, arms folded tightly across her chest as she glares out the windshield, her foot tapping impatiently as she waits for him to put the car into drive and leave the parking lot.

The car ride back to Pepper’s is painful, the tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Still, Tony doesn’t speak, wanting to give Pepper the chance to be the one to speak first, should she want to. He doesn’t speed at all, stops for all lights, not daring to even run the yellow ones, and is certain to use his turn signal –– he doesn’t want to give Pepper another reason to yell, that’s for sure. The entire time he’s formulating plan A, B, and even plan C, preparing what he’s going to say to in order to convince her not to quit should she threaten such a thing.

There are no squealing tires against the pavement when Tony turns onto her street and before he can even pull into her driveway, Pepper is unbuckling her seatbelt, ready to get out of the car the moment Tony comes to a complete stop.

“Pepper,” he says, hitting the lock button before she can get out. He repeats her name, this time a bit louder and more firm.

“Don’t ‘Pepper’ me either.”

“Would you just stop for a second?”

“No, I won’t. I need to get to bed, I have an early morning tomorrow.”

“Since when?”

“Since none of your business.”

“You’re really going to get out of the car before we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“No? So you don’t want to talk about the butter incident or the way I kissed you or the fact that you said you _couldn’t_ enjoy it because _I’m your boss_ and we weren’t on a _date_? You don’t want to talk about any of that? Because I’d like to talk about all of it.”

“No, I do not. I don’t want to discuss any of it. I want you to unlock the car doors and let me out so I can go inside and go to bed.”

“Well that’s just too damn bad, isn’t it?”

“I swear to God, if you don’t unlock my door right now, I’ll roll the window down and crawl out. You know I’m not kidding either. I’ll do it, Tony. And I’ll be sure to tear up your precious leather interior on my way out.”

“Tell me you didn’t like it.”

“I didn’t like it.”

“Say it with conviction, Potts. Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not bullshitting you, Tony. I specifically asked you this afternoon if this was going to be a date and you told me _no_ and that it would be . . . I think your exact words were, ‘ _like so appropriate’._ You can’t just go around and kiss or almost kiss people who _work for you_!”

“But you can go around almost kissing _your boss_? Pots and kettles, Pepper.”

“That was entirely different! You’d just gotten back from Afghanistan and I don’t think either of us can say we were in the right mindset that night! You were there in that tux, all smiles like nothing had changed, like life was all normal and I was there in that ridiculous dress with no back and . . . it’s just not the same!”

“Now you’re just making excuses, Pepper. I thought you were better than that.”

“It’s not an excuse. Besides, I don’t think I need to remind you about how you just _left me waiting for you on that balcony._ ”

It’s the faint sound of the locks disengaging that pulls Pepper back into the present and out of her memories of that _almost perfect_ night. Her cheeks are flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to calm herself. _Finally_ after all of this, Tony has unlocked the doors. She figures he’s come to the realization that he’s been wrong this entire time; she’d stay and gloat, but the last thing she wants is to be in this car for one second more than she has to be.

She goes to pull on the handle when Tony speaks again. His voice isn’t raised, isn’t tinged with annoyance or sarcasm or irony. It’s oddly Tony, as if they’ve been having a normal conversation this entire time and he’s getting ready to tell her to reschedule a conference call.

“I’m sorry you know. For the way things ended that night on the balcony. I don’t think I ever told you that.” 

“Now isn’t the time for guilty confessions,” she says, her voice not carrying nearly the same amount of heat as just a few moments prior. “I’m not your priest.”

“It’s not a guilty confession, Pepper. I’m serious, I’m sorry for leaving you on that balcony. Stuff came up. Iron Man stuff. And no, I didn’t sleep with Christine Everhart again like the tabloids would like you to think. I want you to know that too.”

“I think I would’ve known,” Pepper sniffs, lifting her chin in the air as if this topic of conversation doesn’t bother her. “I didn’t have a text message at four in the morning asking for me to come escort her out of the house and I know good and damn well you don’t escort women out yourself.”

“Ouch, Potts.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, but you could be a little more gentle, at least.”

“You know that’s not my style.”

“Anyway . . . I apologize for everything,” Tony says, waving his hands as a way to broadly encompass everything he’s apologizing for without directly stating it all.

“Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

“That will be all, Miss. Potts.”

Pepper pulls the handle, pushes the door open, and manages to get one foot firmly planted on the driveway when Tony reaches out to touch his hand to her shoulder –– gently, almost hesitantly.

“Just so you know, I would’ve kissed you back. On the balcony, I mean.”

Pepper stills, face turned away from Tony, body frozen into position as her brain tries to make sense of the words that just fell so _stupidly_ out of Tony’s mouth. He did _not_ just admit that out loud, not to her. Immediately she begins to compartmentalize everything, annoyed for once that she can’t blame the absolute _nonsense_ coming out of Tony’s mouth on his excessive alcohol consumption. This is one hundred percent sober Tony and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to handle him like this, when he’s confessing things to her in the front seat of his car. Tony when he’s drunk and falling all over himself is easy to deal with, but sober and unapologetically honest Tony? Pepper _hates_ when he’s like this, especially when he says things she’d rather not hear.

Correction: she’s been _dying_ to hear those words, but only in her dreams where she doesn’t have to think of a response and can just answer him with her mouth on his.

“Pepper?”

It’s the sound of Tony’s voice that shatters her bubble and when she realizes she _still hasn’t moved_ , she folds herself back into the car and shuts the door before nearly launching herself over the middle console at him.

God, she’s so sick of thinking and analyzing everything.

Her hand is on the nape of Tony’s neck in record speed, forcing him partially across the console to meet her halfway, lips pressed against his.

Tony reacts to her immediately, just like he does every time Pepper has this conversation with him in her head, and one of his hands is cupping her cheek, the other pressed firmly on the console just beneath the gearshift to give him a bit more stability in their awkward positions.

Granted, when Pepper’s having these thoughts, she and Tony are usually wrapped up in each other’s arms, sometimes on the balcony, sometimes in his office or his living room with the gorgeous view of the ocean. It’s always romantic, never rushed, a sweet bloom of warmth and delight blossoming between them. 

But in reality, there is nothing romantic about their first kiss, no gentle caresses or swiping of tongues across bottom lips like all of Pepper’s romance novels read. She forces her tongue into Tony’s mouth and he gladly accepts her, grunting at what she feels was necessary roughness. She wants to taste him, to become familiar with every last inch of his mouth and that’s exactly what she’s set out to do, her fingers fisting into his hair as she pulls him closer.

There’s a slight bit of shifting and Tony removes his hand from the console at the same time he tears his mouth from Pepper’s. He leaves no time for protests and instead grabs onto her ponytail and pulls just like he’d considered in the movie theater.

Pepper’s head goes back, her hand dropping from his hair to his bicep, as Tony feasts on the sensitive flesh of her neck. A small squeak leaves her and Pepper flexes her hand against Tony’s arm as she encourages him to continue with soft noises of pleasure.

He’s very good at what he does, she realizes, and she wonders what would’ve happened if she’d would’ve allowed him to continue during the movie. There was no way she could’ve let something like that happen, not when there were people who could’ve seen . . . or heard. 

Despite being in the car, the thought is enough to sober her.

“Tony,” she breathes, hitting him repeatedly on the arm in order to get his attention. “TonyTonyTony. Stop. You’ve got to stop. Stopstopstop.”

_ Nonono  _ is what she wants to tell him, but the urgency in her voice causes him to pause. When he looks at her, his face is blank, though his eyes appear just a bit darker than normal.

_ Jesus, Pepper, pull it together. You  _ cannot _be making out with your boss in his car while having thoughts like_ that. 

“We can’t. I have neighbors. You’re my boss and . . .”

“Expensive sexual harassment lawsuits?” he breathes out.

“Yeah, sure let’s go with that.” _But only because it’s easier than the truth._ “We . . .”

Tony reaches out, tips her chin just a bit, and swallows the rest of her thoughts. She finds that she rather enjoys it, especially when he runs his tongue along the corner of her mouth, teasing.

“I get it,” Tony says, settling back into his seat. “Besides, you said you had an early morning.”

“Well I . . .”

“Goodnight, Pepper.”

“Goodnight, Tony.”

There are no more hands on shoulders or last minute confessions as Pepper drags herself out of the car. She hears the soft purr of the Audi behind her once she steps onto her porch, though Tony makes no move to leave until he sees that she’s unlocked her front door.

When she turns around to wave goodbye, she swears she can see a triumphant smirk stretched across Tony’s features.

Damn him. 


	8. all things pepper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finds it increasingly difficult to _not_ be consumed with all things Pepper.
> 
> **[ NSFW content warning ]**

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Those are the first words out of Tony’s mouth the moment he arrives at the end of Pepper’s street. He’s talking to no one in particular, not even sure he’s talking to himself. He just feels the urge to say something and those are the three words he keeps coming back to.

“I mean, _Jesus fucking Christ._ ”

Tony drives back to the mansion one handed the entire way, the fingers on his free hand pressed against his mouth as he recounts the way Pepper felt against his lips. She was all soft edges and soft skin but she was demanding too, taking charge like no woman he’d ever been with. He can still feel where her lips were on his, can still taste her lipstick, the taste of her perfume on his tongue.

It’s enough to make him hard and he’s still fifteen minutes from home, ten if he speeds.

He tries to keep his concentration on the road and not what it was like having Pepper Potts’ tongue shoved halfway down his throat, but it’s a very intoxicating memory and he’s only a man, after all.

When he does finally arrive home, the Audi parked in the garage and the keys tossed on the small table in the foyer, Tony heads directly into the kitchen as he’s greeted by his faithful AI.

“How was your night with Miss. Potts, sir?”

“It was a night, J,” he says, trying to remain vague as he sticks his head in the refrigerator to find the last bottle of beer he’s sure he put in there last week.

“Did Miss. Potts enjoy herself?”

“Cut it out, JARVIS. You’re fishing for information.”

Remind him again why he built such a knowledgeable AI with the unquenchable thirst to know anything and everything? It’s like talking to a very gossipy friend.

So, essentially Rhodey, but with an even scarier insight into his brain.

Tony emerges from the refrigerator victorious and knocks the cap off the bottle by smacking it against the edge of the countertop, something Pepper always scolds him about whenever she catches him being less than gentle with the _very expensive_ marble he insisted on being installed. The piece goes flying and lands near the stove, but Tony ignores it, choosing to take a rather long drag of his beer instead. He has a cleaning service, after all.

He finishes the beer in just three more drinks and tosses the now-empty bottle into the little white trash can underneath the sink that Pepper insisted he use for recyclables. She even drew a little green recycling symbol on the front in Sharpie as a reminder that’s what it’s to be used for.

“ _If we’re going to push renewable energy and cleaner practices in general at Stark, you need to be emulating that, even when you’re not smiling for the press, Tony._ ”

Fuck, he loved it when she showed off her wicked vocabulary. At least twice a week he has to double check the definitions for some of the words she uses. Everything about the way she speaks sends a delicious chill down his spine, even when she’s yelling at him. He loves it when she says his name, especially when she’s soft and quiet, like when she rouses him from bed on the occasional Saturday morning. Hell, if he’s truly honest with himself, Pepper could spend an entire afternoon reading the phone book and he’d find it hot.

The way she said his name tonight was a nice addition too, the breathy, urgent whispers sounding quite nice coming from her mouth. She sounded so conflicted, like she was enjoying how quickly things had progressed but also wanted to stop. God, he wishes she wouldn’t have made him stop.

“JARVIS, I’m headed downstairs,” Tony announces abruptly, hurrying out of the kitchen and down the stairs to the workshop.

He can’t be thinking about Pepper like this. It’s wildly inappropriate for starters and he can’t afford to lose such a vital member of his team, not when Pepper is the only person who actually _gets_ him and all of his quirks. Without her, Tony is completely lost and he can’t afford to be lost, not when she’s pretty much put his life back on track. Tony has done a lot of things in his life, but blurring the line Pepper set for them is not one of those things he plans on doing to the point of no return. What happened in his car was a once-in-a-lifetime experience — albeit a very _good_ experience — and if he was honest, was totally worth it. When it comes down to it in the end though, Pepper is one of his best friends; he can’t ruin that just because of some crazy fantasy and a bit of melted butter.

“Oh for the love of — J, I need thought-obliterating music. Something with a lot of bass.”

As Tony drops into the chair at his desk, the first iconic opening chords of Aerosmith’s _Sweet Emotion_ blares through the sound system he has wired through the workshop, the one that Pepper is always turning down while nagging him about the damage he’s certainly causing to his hearing.

God, he’s got to stop thinking about Pepper.

After one quick keystroke, the monitors in front of him light up, his latest suit upgrade waiting right where he’d left it. Loud music and numbers always help clear his mind of everything but the task in front of him, which, now that he thinks about it, is probably why he does it so much (much to Pepper’s chagrin).

It’s easy to get lost in the calculations and long strings of code that seem as if they’ll never end. He’s working on upgrading the response time in the HUD after noticing a slight lag when trying to identify heat signatures after his last go-round in the suit, an error he was glad to have discovered while out on a rather simple mission.

It’s enough to keep him busy for at least a few hours, but when he starts rifling through papers in need of a pen only twenty minutes into the project, he hears Pepper’s voice again, chiding him this time for his lack of desk organization, and it’s enough to throw him off his game.

_TonyTonyTony._

The way his name rushed from her mouth should’ve been illegal. The conflicted but oh-so-pleased way she spoke sent heat pooling in his lower abdomen in the car, and even now, in the privacy of the workshop where Steven Tyler is doing his best to serve as a distraction, Tony can’t help but get wrapped up in all things Pepper.

Her lips. Her skin. Her tongue.

It was all highly arousing, the way they so easily melded together. Pepper’s hand in his hair, grip tight enough to leave his scalp tingling, his teeth grazing at what he quickly discovered was one of the more sensitive spots on her neck.

Jesus, her beautiful long and elegant neck, porcelain pale skin that was unmarred until he acquainted his teeth with the soft flesh. Tony thinks of how he grabbed onto her ponytail and tipped her head back, exposing the beauty to him and him alone. He wishes he would’ve taken more time to appreciate her instead of going straight for the fun parts, though Pepper didn’t seem to mind all that much.

It’s inevitable at this point and Tony knows it — there is no way he’s getting anymore work done, not when Pepper Potts has taken up residency in his brain and other, far more important parts of his anatomy.

“Pepper,” he says softly to the empty room, the word being drowned out by guitar riffs and drum solos as a hand falls to the front of his jeans. He palms himself, sucking a breath in through his teeth at the jolting feeling, and decides that just for tonight, he’s letting his mind go places it shouldn’t.

One time can’t hurt, can it?

Tipping his head back, Tony gazes at the ceiling briefly until he conjures Pepper’s face and then closes his eyes, holding onto that image as he unbuttons his pants. He makes quick work of the denim and the boxers underneath, shoving the material down his thighs just enough to make things a bit easier and far more comfortable.

Unsurprisingly, he’s already hard to the point of aching.

When he first takes his cock in his hand, Tony imagines that it’s Pepper holding him, stroking him, and it’s nearly enough to get him off right there at his desk.

He steadies his breathing, his hand working up and down his shaft with slow, languid movements, as he pictures Pepper first in those four and a half inch Louboutins with the red soles, the ones that do wonders for her legs. His thoughts morph into memories of her in that backless blue dress, how it clung to her in all the right places.

His mouth falls open, and something primal sounding echoes from his chest as he works his hand that much faster, up and down, adding a partial counterclockwise twist of his wrist. He swipes a thumb over the head and his hips rut upward, wanting — _needing_ — more, and _Jesus fucking Christ_ he wishes it wasn’t his hand around his cock but Pepper’s mouth.

While Tony Stark can only ever _imagine_ what it would be like to get blown by one magnificent Pepper Potts, he does have a bit of an idea as to what it might be like. He’s had his finger in her mouth after all, and what she did with her tongue? He already knows she’d give him the best head of his life and that was after a three, possibly four, second demonstration on his innocent index finger. He’s also had the _exquisite_ pleasure of exploring her mouth on such an intimate level it would make a dentist blush and the brief memory draws a grunt out of him.

He can’t remember the last time he’s jerked off like this, especially in the workshop of all places, but it doesn’t matter because he’s never had images quite like these in his head. Images of Pepper, of her head sinking into his lap and taking his entire length into her warm, soft mouth with her perfectly manicured hands there and ready to assist him into climaxing hard and fast.

Tony can almost feel her cheeks hollow the harder he works his own hand, can almost feel the flick of her tongue, the use of her teeth. It’s so disappointing that he’s being left to his own imagination when he knows the real thing has to be ten times as good as this.

As his cock twitches eagerly with a rapidly building release Tony knows he can’t stave off much longer, he tightens his grip just a bit and works his hand into a near-blur, drawing out grunts and groans.

 _“Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”_ asks the image of Pepper in his head right as everything goes white-hot. Tony spills over his hand, hips jerking in a stuttered rhythm against nothing as a mangled cry escapes his lips.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbles after his hips have stilled and he’s started to go soft in his hand. His eyes are still closed as he slumps in his chair, the warm fuzzy feeling threatening to swallow him whole. Tony allows himself only seconds to revel in the euphoric moment before he’s reaching for the shop rag on the edge of his desk to clean himself with. The cleanup process is enough to remind him why he tends to do this in the shower and Tony decides just then a shower and bed is exactly what he needs.

“JARVIS? Start the shower and lock up shop,” he says over the din of the music as he tucks himself back into his jeans.

His ears are ringing still as he walks into his bedroom, the ensuite already filling with billowing steam. He strips, his clothes left on the floor just inches from the hamper, and steps into the shower.

Tony does not allow his thoughts to go to places they shouldn’t as he washes his hair, nor does he allow them to stray as he soaps up his body. He’d promised himself one time thinking about Pepper and that was it — no more.

Sated and now warm from the shower, Tony slips between the silky bedsheets, double checks that his alarm is set, and is asleep in a matter of minutes, his dreams full of flashes of red hair and even redder lips, of blue eyes and blue dresses.

Dreams full of Pepper.


	9. brunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper has brunch with her best friend who makes a discovery.

_“But what if they hear?”_

_“They won’t, I’m very good at this.”_

_“O-Oh.”_

_“See, I told you.”_

_“But I . . . I’m not very — oh_ God _.”_

_“Do you trust me?”_

_“Completely. It’s myself I don’t trust.”_

_Everything shifts, slow and languid, but nothing seems off. It makes perfect sense, the way mouths connect, swallowing noises that must be kept hidden. Fumbling hands and eager fingers. Teeth and nails and tongue._

_A wail, not from mouths but from an alarm. Busted. It’s impossible to pull away in time, twisted and knotted in compromising positions._

_“But what if they hear?”_

_“They won’t.”_

_But they did and now everyone knows._

* * *

Pepper wakes drenched in sweat, her bedsheets wrapped awkwardly around her legs. She has to fight with them to free herself and when she does, she realizes the alarm from her dream is still blaring loudly.

Oh. Her alarm clock.

She reaches over and fumbles around the top until she finds the switch that turns the damn thing off. Her bedroom is once again bathed in a peaceful quiet, the only sound coming from the constant, comforting whirring of her ceiling fan. She stares at it as it spins above her, so fast the blades nearly blur together, and tries to forget all about the dream she was pulled out of by the shrill beeping.

Pepper allows herself three more minutes to lie in bed and just _exist_ before pushing herself to start her morning. She begins with a four mile run like always, followed by two cups of coffee and then a shower.

She dresses in a pair of denim capris, a light purple button up, and a pristine pair of white slip on canvas shoes. She keeps her hair down, allowing it to air dry and show some of the natural beach wave she normally straightens into submission every morning before work. A pair of Ann Taylor sunglasses are placed on top of her head to complete her casual Saturday look, along with her black crossbody she takes with her everywhere.

She hadn’t been lying the night before — she really does have plans. It’s rare that Pepper has a Saturday off, so when she does, she tries to make the most of it. She’s had this brunch date in her calendar for over a month and not even Iron Man can keep her from going.

There is blessedly little traffic on her way to her favorite little brunch spot in downtown Malibu, and better yet, there are still a few tables outside available. Pepper snags one near the front so she can easily catch the attention of her best friend once she arrives; she is, after all, nearly twenty minutes early.

Emily Rankin is one of Pepper’s oldest and closest friends. Having met in their sophomore year of college in a business strategies class, Emily and Pepper became instant friends and moved into an apartment together at the start of their junior year. They’ve been through everything together — nasty break ups, a proposal and wedding, deaths of parents, crises at work, and even a baby. Pepper may never find someone to settle down with thanks to her unique work situation, but she’ll always have Emily and Pippa, her sweet goddaughter, to live vicariously through.

Brunch dates with Emily and Pepper used to be a weekly affair that slowly fell by the wayside as Pepper’s career blossomed and Emily’s family grew. Despite the fact that they plan to get together at least once a month, the two usually go two or more months without seeing each other in person, relying on the small screens of their phones for a bit of digital face-to-face interaction.

A waitress stops by the table, dropping off two menus and offers to fill Pepper’s complimentary water glass. She smiles at the woman and thanks her, though she has no need to look at the menu — she orders the same thing every time she’s here. Instead, she takes out her phone and snaps a picture of the cover before adding the photo to a text message.

**To: Anthony  
** **From: Pepper  
Image Attached  
** **» I told you I had plans.**

She hits send before she can talk herself out of it and places her phone face down on the table. There is very little doubt that Tony will text her back anytime soon; he tends to sleep his life away on the weekends, trying to make up for all the sleep he lost throughout the week.

So, naturally, he texts her back almost immediately because Tony Stark can never be predictable.

**To: Chili Pepper  
From: Tony  
** **» I don’t like it when you have plans.**

**To: Anthony  
From: Pepper  
** **» So you’ve said.**

There is a lull in the conversation, the little dots on her phone appearing and disappearing four times before disappearing completely. If she had to guess, she would say Tony fell asleep in the middle of a reply, probably face first into a bowl of cereal. Minutes pass without response, though the moment her phone buzzes against the tabletop, Pepper picks it up and swipes a thumb across the screen, almost a little too eager.

**To: Chili Pepper  
From: Tony  
** **» I would’ve joined you, you know.**

**To: Anthony  
From: Pepper  
** **» No, I’m waiting on someone. A friend.**

**To: Chili Pepper  
From: Tony  
** **» So a brunch date?**

**To: Anthony  
From: Pepper  
** **» Yes, a brunch date.  
» And we don’t do dates, remember?**

**To: Chili Pepper  
From: Tony  
** **» No we don’t.  
» Apparently we just do fun things with our mouths.**

It’s Pepper’s turn to not immediately respond. She sets her phone facedown once again and drums her fingers on the menu, her chin resting in her other hand. The last thing she needs right now is for Tony Stark to get in her head. Her dreams are one thing — she really has no control over her subconscious and what it decides to project –– but she _does_ have control over her waking thoughts and she’s keeping Tony Stark out of them, thank you very much.

The uncertainty of what to respond with — or if she should respond at all — is quickly replaced with excitement when Pepper sees Emily walking down the sidewalk. She lifts a hand to wave, catching Emily’s attention, and she’s on her feet before her best friend even reaches the table, ready to pull her into much needed, long overdue hug.

“Pep! Tell me you haven’t been waiting long,” the other woman says as she takes the seat opposite Pepper.

“Fifteen, twenty minutes. You know me, I can never be right on time, I’m always early. But it’s fine, really. It’s beautiful out today, it gave me an excuse to _want_ to get out of the house.”

The two launch into a discussion about Brian, Emily’s husband, and Pippa and the two new bottom teeth she’s sporting, complete with baby tantrums and low-grade fevers. Emily has about a million new photos to show Pepper and they only pause their discussion about all things baby-related when the waitress from earlier stops by to see if they’re ready to order.

Both women recite their usual brunch choices from memory, complete with a mimosa for each of them.

“So tell me about Stark,” Emily says later around a mouthful of waffle, gesturing with her fork.

The question is enough to startle Pepper and she nearly drops her silverware, her mind immediately equating _Stark_ with _Tony_ instead of _Stark Industries_ which of course, Emily is asking about. It’s been how long since they were able to properly catch up last?

“What about Stark?” she asks, reaching for her water glass in hopes that she can use those few precious moments to clear her head of Tony and focus.

“I want to know how things are going. How’s the boss? Still as charming as ever?”

“They’re going,” Pepper says vaguely, spearing a piece of her French toast with the tines of her fork. “I was in Belize last month to help coordinate a business trip and I’ve been coordinating with the VP at Lockheed Martin to schedule a sit-down Tony has been insisting on for months. Something to do with their aeronautics division wanting to look at one of his patents, I don’t remember, everything tends to run together anymore.”

Pepper hopes this will be enough to satisfy Emily’s curiosity into her life for the moment. Other than work, she really doesn’t have much to report on, unless she includes the incident in her driveway last night, but that’s not really something Pepper wants to divulge to anyone, especially to her best friend while out in public. She hasn’t been on a date in nearly six months, having given up on the idea after cancelling one too many times on different guys she’s been set up with. Anytime she’s forced to cancel, Pepper feels awful about it for days, especially when she’s forced to do so to one that seems genuinely nice.

Just another perk of working for Tony Stark.

And because she doesn’t want to talk much about herself, Emily insists on doing just that. It’s almost as if she can sense Pepper’s discomfort and capitalizes on it.

“That’s exciting, Pep. Sounds like you’re being kept busy. I worry about you, you know. You’re always working and pulling ridiculously long hours. I don’t want your personal life to suffer because of that.”

“What do you mean suffer? It’s not suffering, I’m having brunch with you right now.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I find time to see people, to call my mom and my sister. I FaceTime with you and Pip nearly every week!”

“Okay, but what about your love life then? When was the last time you actually got dressed up, went out with a nice guy, and didn’t end the date early because of your boss and one of his emergencies?”

“How am I supposed to know? I don’t keep a log of every guy I go out with,” she says, not meeting Emily’s eyes, instead choosing to focus on the condensation on the side of her water glass. She knows the answer to Emily’s question, she just doesn’t want to admit it out loud.

“I think you just answered my — Virginia Alice Potts! Is that a hickey on your neck?!”

Emily’s voice raises at least an octave as she leans forward, pushing her plate of waffles out of her way. Her eyes are wide as she reaches out a hand, fingers grasping onto the collar of Pepper’s button up to move it to the side slightly. There, in all its glory, is a reddish colored bruise just above her collar bone.

“Pepper!”

“It’s not a hickey!” she hisses as she pulls back, her hand coming up to pull at her shirt collar.

“Oh? Then do you want to tell me what I’m looking at?”

Pepper can feel the heat rising in her cheeks and she shakes her head at her best friend, reaching for her phone as she does so. She flips the front-facing camera on and gently pulls down on the collar of her shirt so she can take a picture. How she missed it in the mirror as she was getting ready, Pepper doesn’t know, but it’s definitely a hickey and she’s not happy.

“Huh,” Pepper says, still looking at her phone as she composes a new text message, pretending to be examining the photo in more detail. “I guess I didn’t realize it left a mark.”

“What? Some guy’s mouth?”

“Oh please, Emily. I brushed up against myself with my curling wand yesterday. I didn’t realize it actually left a mark. Besides, when would I have had time to go out and get a hickey? I had to babysit Tony at the movies last night.”

Pepper presses send on her phone, locks it, and drops her phone into the bottom of her bag that’s slung over the back of her chair. She’ll deal with _that_ later.

**To: Anthony  
From: Pepper  
Image Attached  
» I don’t find this amusing. At all.**

To prove she’s not lying about the movies, Pepper fishes out the ticket stub from her wallet and hands it over to Emily. The date and time are clearly stamped on the piece in her hand though she’s looking at it with as much scrutiny as a club bouncer with a fake ID in his hand.

Eventually Emily hands the ticket stub back to Pepper and sighs, almost as if she’s been defeated.

“Okay, I guess you’re right.” She sounds disappointed.

“Wow, you’re acting like I just ruined Christmas,” Pepper says as she puts the ticket and her wallet back into her purse. “I was babysitting the world’s biggest toddler last night, seriously.”

“I believe you . . . But _Mission Impossible_? Really?”

“Tony loved the first two, he insisted we see the next one. Personally, I think he’s in love with Tom Cruise. The movie wasn’t that bad though. Kept my attention, at least.”

Emily gestures to Pepper’s neck before going back to her waffles and nods seriously at her.

“Make sure you put a bit of burn ointment on that so it doesn’t scar. It’s pretty red.”

“I’ll do that as soon as I get home,” Pepper lies, sliding a piece of her French toast through a puddle of syrup.

“Still wish it was a hickey. It’s about time you have a little fun.”

“Keep wishing, sister. And for what it’s worth, I have plenty of fun.”

“Oh, I’ll keep wishing, don’t you worry.”

Somewhere deep inside her bag, Pepper’s phone is going off every few minutes with unread text messages.

She ignores them.

**To: Chili Pepper  
From: Tony  
» Oh.  
» That looks nice.  
» Maybe next time I’ll put them places only you can see.  
» Pepper?  
** **» Come on, Potts. I was just kidding.  
» You can’t ignore me forever, we do work together.  
» Pepper???  
» Hello?**


	10. holotables and hickeys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a typical day at the offices of Stark Industries.

“Holy shit, you’re here early.”

“Good morning to you too, Honey Bear.”

“Man, you’re here, in a suit, before eight o’clock in the morning? Who are you and what have you done with Tony Stark?”

Tony scowls at Rhodey from where he stands, just inside his office door. He’s been nursing a cup of coffee for the last half hour and it hasn’t even started to kick in yet. He hopes the caffeine will start doing something for him soon or this is going to turn into one long ass day. He raises the cup to his lips, still glowering in the direction of his best friend who just so happens to be sitting behind his desk, feet propped up on the corner like he owns the place.

“I have some very important business to attend to with Miss. Potts if you must know. Why are you in my office on a Monday morning when you know I don’t come in until two in the afternoon . . . if we’re lucky.”

“Because I _also_ have some very important business to attend to with Miss. Potts this morning.”

Tony isn’t sure what he was expecting Rhodey to say, but it certainly isn’t this and his reaction is written all over his face.

“What kind of business?” he asks, walking around the desk and knocking Rhodey’s feet to the floor.

“Well,” he begins, standing and offering the chair to Tony who promptly sits down. “Now that Stark Industries is in the process of terminating its weapons manufacturing contract with the DOD, Pepper wants to discuss what Stark can bring to the table in lieu of weapons. She said she has quite the presentation for me.”

“And pray tell why all of this is going on under my nose between my _best friend_ and my _personal assistant_? I think I should be involved!”

“No you shouldn’t because you’d get bored and nothing would get accomplished. Besides, you don’t have anything to worry about — Obadiah’s the one who put all of this together, I’m just acting as his liaison because he’s on a call with representatives with Boeing.”

Looking up, Tony swivels in his chair away from Rhodey and in the direction of his office door where Pepper stands, head down fingers flying across the keys of her BlackBerry. She’s dressed in a form-fitting, yet tastefully professional black skirt, a white button up, and matching black blazer. Her nails are painted a deep red that reminds Tony of the color of blood, but more than that, he realizes, her hair is down.

Pepper never wears her hair down. It’s always in that impossibly tight ponytail of hers, pulled up high and away from her face. But for whatever reason, today is different. Her hair is down, cascading over her shoulders in fierce red waves that stand out against the black of her blazer. The strands look soft and silky and the only thing that Tony is capable of thinking about in that very moment is the way he pulled her hair over the weekend and the way she responded.

There is a soft whooshing noise from Pepper’s phone, a noise Tony automatically associates with emails, and she looks up, her gaze immediately finding his. It’s as if he’s been sucker punched, the wind knocked right out of him with the intensity of Pepper’s gaze.

“I just sent you an updated schedule for today. Jim and I will be in our meeting for a while, so I’ve gone ahead and rearranged your schedule, pushing the unnecessary phone calls and meetings to later in the week. Follow it and you’ll be fine. I even left an hour and fifteen minutes for you to get lunch.”

“Excuse me, but could you not call him Jim? It makes me queasy.”

Tony watches as Pepper blatantly ignores him and slides her BlackBerry into the pocket of her blazer, turning her attention to Rhodey.

“There’s a small conference room down the hall from my office that I’ve reserved for us this morning. I’m going to head down there now and get things set up. You can meet me there whenever you’re ready,” Pepper says, giving Rhodey a genuine smile as she brings her hands up to adjust the position of her hair around her neck. When she turns back to Tony, the smile is gone and her expression now is one of cool responsibility.

“If you have any questions, Mr. Stark, you can email me.”

It’s not until Tony’s office door shuts behind Pepper that Rhodey pushes off the wall and moves to stand in front of Tony’s desk. He studies the other man carefully for a moment before taking a seat, his arms folded loosely across his chest.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Tony looks up, puzzled, as if he doesn’t understand the question.

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“That whole tension thing between you and Pepper? She came maybe ten feet in this office and was trying so hard not to stare literal daggers into your soul the entire time.”

“Who said I had a soul?”

“Man, what did you do this time? Please tell me you didn’t try hitting on her. We both know she’s the only reason your life isn’t in total disarray, you can’t go screwing around with that.”

“I didn’t try hitting on her,” Tony says, rolling his eyes and scoffing as if this is the most ludicrous thing he’s heard. “She’s probably just mad because I didn’t sign some paperwork or something. Have you seen my inbox? I’m sure that’s her problem.”

To get his point across, Tony gestures to the shallow metal basket marked “IN” and the stack of papers that he’s yet to touch. There is no doubt in his mind that somewhere, buried in all of those papers, is another reason for Pepper to be on his ass; unsigned contacts, temporary budget approvals, you name it. Something important is in that stack of papers and Pepper is going to be coming after him eventually. At least then she’ll be forced to talk to him for more than ten seconds.

“Maybe you should, I dunno, work on going through all of that stuff?” Rhodey suggests even though he already knows Tony has no intention of doing so.

“Yeah, hard pass,” he says, pulling up his email. There, right at the top, is an updated daily schedule from Pepper. There’s even a little red exclamation point off to the right, indicating she sent the message with high priority. He clicks on it, curious as to what he’s supposed to be doing, and rolls his eyes when he sees he has a scheduled meeting with Obadiah at eleven.

Obadiah wants to discuss the arc reactor and the suits, Tony is sure of it. Hell, he’ll probably try and convince Tony to go public with Iron Man like he’s been doing for the last three months. Obadiah thinks it’ll be good for the company and the press would undoubtedly have a field day with finally being able to _prove_ that Tony really is the one who’s been wearing the suit.

But for once, Tony is wanting to err on the side of caution, to listen to Pepper and keep the whole superhero bit under wraps for at least a little while longer. And to think just last week she told him he didn’t have a responsible bone in his body.

“This woman really expects me to be on a conference call with the top shareholders _by myself_ while she’s off trying to woo the Federal Government? I think not,” he says, closing out his email at the same time he finishes what’s left of his coffee. Tony stands and locks his computer before heading in the direction of his office door.

Rhodey turns in his seat, eyes following after Tony’s retreating form, and shakes his head.

“I’m starting to think you’re actually trying to get on her bad side,” Rhodey says, pushing himself to his feet.

“It’s not that at all. She knows things never go well when I have to talk to the shareholders by myself, so I don’t know why she would’ve thought keeping that on my schedule for today would be a good idea. If anything, she’s slipping. I should fire her.”

“No, I think you just don’t want to deal with it. Besides you wouldn't last two hours without her,”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong but . . .”

“You’re not going to ask her to reschedule the call are you?”

“Well, I know she’s busy. But you’re on your way to see her and I just thought you could say something to her. Thanks, Rhodey, you’re the best.” 

Tony claps Rhodey once on the back before pulling open his office door, heading in the direction of the elevators. Obadiah and everyone else can wait — he has a date with R&D and the new satellite imaging system he’s been working on for the last two weeks.

He’s not sure how long he’s been holed in up in R&D, but he knows it’s been long enough that the designs on the holotable are starting to blur the longer he looks at them. The entire Research and Development team left for lunch over twenty minutes ago after Tony kindly declined their offer to join them, choosing a bit of peace and quiet over food despite the fact that he’s practically starving.

“There you are! Rhodey said I could probably find you up here.”

Well, the peace and quiet was nice while it lasted.

Tony swivels on his stool and gives Pepper a strained smile the moment he sees her, teetering on those too-high heels she insists on wearing, a stack of papers — God, he hates it when she has stacks of papers with her — in one hand, a salad in the other.

“I’m not eating that,” he says by way of greeting, making a disgusted face as Pepper sets the salad down on the corner of the holotable.

“That’s good because it’s not for you. I’m supposed to meet with Obadiah soon since you skipped your meeting with him, so I’m working through lunch today. These, however,” she says, sliding the papers toward Tony, “ _are_ for you. Now I need you to focus because we have a lot to get through.”

Another disgusted look crosses Tony’s features as he looks down at the papers Pepper gave to him. The packet is at least an inch thick and there are little colored flags marking specific pages, once again reminding Tony of just how organized and efficient Pepper is.

Reaching across the table, Pepper flips open the packet to a page with a neon orange flag near the top and taps it with the end of her fork, drawing Tony’s attention to it. He glances at the headline — _The Clean Water Initiative_ — and looks back up at Pepper as she spears a tomato with her fork.

“Rhodey and I discussed the CWI this morning and then had a conference call with the head of the EPA. He had a few concerns about the phased nationwide roll-out which I know was something we’d been discussing in-house. I took down his suggestions, which are written in red. Rhodey’s ideas are in blue, so it should be easy for you to differentiate.”

Pepper pauses to take a few bites of her salad, giving Tony the opportunity to look over the suggested changes, though she can immediately tell he’s only flipping through the pages as his eyes remain unfocused on the words. This is typical Tony Stark behavior when he’s bored and would much rather being doing something else, like blowing things up or tinkering with an Iron Man suit. Nevertheless, Pepper presses on because that’s her job, as difficult as Tony makes it sometimes.

“What’s even better is the fact that he’s pretty sure the military will be on board with partnering with Stark for the global expansion on the CWI once we reach that phase in the program. He said the prospect of — Tony, are you even listening?”

Tony is, in fact, not listening — not that it comes as much surprise, really. He’s far too enamored with Pepper’s mouth, watching the way her lips quirk up each time she gets excited about something. She’s passionate about the CWI and has been from the beginning; it’s a project she helped spearhead and without her there, pushing Tony to act, it would probably still be in the early planning stages.

And then there’s the red mark, just above her collarbone, that catches Tony’s attention, the one she sent him a picture of Saturday morning while at brunch. She hadn’t responded to any of his texts the entire weekend after her little realization, much to his annoyance. 

Everything clicks. It explains the blazer despite the heat, explains why Pepper wore her hair down and why she kept fussing with it earlier in his office — she needs to keep the mark hidden as best she can and Tony knows from personal experience that concealer can only do so much when concealing cuts and bruises.

“Can I just be straight with you?” Tony asks, pushing away the packet of papers and leaning forward as Pepper eyes him suspiciously. She remains quiet as she loads a few more spinach leaves onto her fork, shoving then into her mouth to buy her a few more moments of silence.

It drives Tony crazy.

“Look, Potts. We both know I’m not interested in the CWI, it’s practically your baby and you can run it better than I ever could hope to,” he says, getting up and walking around the table.

Against her better judgement, Pepper turns in her seat in order to watch where Tony is headed and is surprised — well, only somewhat — that he’s stopped in front of her. His hands are stuffed deep into his pockets as he regards her, eyes dropping from her face to the now-obscured hickey thanks to the placement of her hair, and then down to her legs that are crossed at the knee. She’s wearing her classic Louboutin heels, the red bottoms just visible from where Tony stands, and it takes everything he has to pull his gaze away from her legs and back up to her face.

Why hasn’t she said anything? Pepper should definitely be lecturing him about boundaries and professionalism and _very expensive sexual harassment lawsuits_ , not sitting there and looking at him with an expression he can’t read. That’s the worst part, he can usually read Pepper like an open book, but right now she’s pulling the best poker face he’s ever seen.

“Are you going to say anything or are you just going to sit there and stare at me until I figure out whatever it is you’re thinking?” Tony finally asks. He suddenly feels on edge, almost like he can’t breathe, and he reaches up to loosen the tie around his neck.

“I’m just waiting for you to finish so we can pick up where we left off.”

Tony opens his mouth to speak and realizes he doesn’t quite know what he even wants to say to that. And really, he doesn’t have anything he wants to say; all he wants to do is kiss Pepper, to remember how it feels to have her mouth on his, to remember how she tastes. It’s the one thing he hasn’t been able to get out of his mind all weekend long, no matter how hard he’s tried. It’s ridiculously unfair how easy it was for this woman to get under his skin because it’s _Pepper_ for crying out loud. They shouldn’t even be in this situation.

“What if I told you I don’t want to continue talking about the CWI and Rhodey and Obie’s plans to go to D.C.?” Tony asks, leaning forward and pressing his hands down onto the armrests of Pepper’s chair, effectively caging her in where she sits.

“There are a lot of things we don’t want to do Tony, but we have to,” Pepper says, tipping her head back to get a better look at him as he hovers above her. “While I may run on ‘Tony’ time most days, the United States Government does not and they want a quick and smooth transition with Stark after our weapons contract is officially terminated. Logistically speaking, the CWI is the—.”

If Tony has to hear the words ‘government’ or ‘CWI’ one more time, he’s going to lose his mind. He doesn’t care about what the EPA wants right now, doesn’t care about how this will surely bump Stark stock prices a few points higher. He cares about none of it and just wants Pepper to be quiet, so he does the only thing that makes sense to him in that moment — he kisses her mid-sentence and she’s _blissfully_ silent.

At first, Pepper is more in shock than anything, surprised Tony would do something so . . . well, unprofessional in the workplace. What’s even more shocking, especially to Pepper is that she finds she’s actually _enjoying_ this. Her hands unfold from their place in her lap and come up to the sides of Tony’s face, pulling him down to her as if he’s not close enough.

The angle is awkward and starts to bother Tony’s neck after only a few moments, not to mention the fact that he feels so lopsided he’s afraid he’s going to fall over and take Pepper right along with him. Being the genius, quick thinker that he is, Tony wraps one arm around the middle of Pepper’s back and pulls her upward at the same time he kicks the rolling chair out from underneath her. He hears it hit the holotable with a bang, but it doesn’t matter because Pepper’s arms are around his neck and her tongue is in his mouth and God, he hopes she doesn’t ask to stop.

“We _can’t_ ,” Pepper murmurs and Tony can detect the desperation in her voice as she pulls away, though instead of breaking physical contact completely, she shifts slightly so she can kiss along his jaw.

“But we can. We are,” Tony argues, titling his head to the side as he backs Pepper up against the table.

“No, not at work. Not when I’m on the clock.”

“You’re not, you’re on lunch.”

“Tony . . .”

“Pepper.”

“I’m not and you—.”

“I’m your boss and if I say you’re on lunch, you’re on lunch.”

Tony lifts Pepper up and sets her firmly on the holotable, the project he was working on earlier glitching and disappearing as Pepper breaks the design field. He moves to stand between her legs and surprisingly, Pepper shifts forward at the same time that Tony brushes her hair back off her shoulders.

“Okay . . . I’m on lunch.”

“I know, I saw the salad.”

In what Pepper can only think of as a very unattractive fashion, she lets out a snort and instinctively raises a hand to her mouth in embarrassment while Tony, on the other hand, finds it quite amusing and the look he gives her says just that.

He reaches up and wraps his fingers gently around Pepper’s wrist, pulling her hand away from her mouth so he can undo the top three buttons of her shirt and push her blazer from her shoulders. He kisses her again, though it’s slower this time, more . . . calculated, if that’s even possible, and Pepper finds herself sighing happily into his mouth right before he pulls away.

Before she can even start to form words of protest, Tony is back to kissing her neck, though he doesn’t stay in one spot for long, his mouth moving quickly down toward her collarbone. His tongue flits across the semi-concealed hickey and Tony grins as he lowers his lips to the spot, affording the mark a few, soft kisses before he begins nipping at the skin. He can feel Pepper tense against him, though the soft mewling sounds she’s making tells him all that he needs to know.

Tony noses his way up the column of her throat at the same time he places his hands on the tops of Pepper’s thighs, slowly inching his way up as he raises his head to press a kiss at the corner of her mouth.

“ _Above_ the waist,” Pepper says firmly, her hands falling from Tony’s shoulders to his wrists. She forcefully moves his hands to her sides before letting go to pull her skirt down the best she can. A hand slides up Tony’s abdomen and chest, fingers lightly dancing across the arc reactor hidden beneath his shirt. Pepper grabs onto his tie near the knot and yanks hard enough to pull Tony’s full attention back to her and within seconds she’s back to kissing him like her life depends on it.

Tony’s hands move tentatively up Pepper’s sides, almost as if he’s trying to determine what she might or might not like, though she seems to be far more focused on all the ways she can explore the inside of his mouth while her free hand fists into his hair. He slides one hand up to palm her breast through her shirt and receives a grunt of approval against his mouth at the same time Pepper pushes into his hand.

Breathless, Pepper pulls away in such an abrupt fashion it nearly makes Tony’s head spin and he pulls back himself to look at her, afraid he’s done something wrong.

“We can’t be doing this,” Pepper says, moving her gaze from Tony’s face to where his hand still remained on her chest. He arched a brow but dropped his hand back to her sides instead without complaint.

“It’s fine, you’re on lunch,” he reminds her at the same time he moves to go back in for another kiss, desperately wanting to taste her again.

“No, Tony. Stop.”

“Pepper, it’s fine.”

“No it’s not. We shouldn’t be doing this here, not at work. Not even if I’m on lunch.”

“No one is going to know.”

“What about the R&D guys? They could be back at any moment.”

“They’re also on lunch.”

“It’s been nearly an hour.”

“They’re never back on time, Pepper. I know these things.”

“That may be the case most days, but they know their _boss_ is in their space. They’re not going to be late.”

“Five more minutes? I’m really enjoying what we’ve got going on here, Potts.”

“ _No_. Someone could hear us.”

“They won’t, I know what I’m doing. I built this place to be soundproof for a reason.”

Pepper pales and reaches up to start sliding the buttons on her shirt back into their places. Her fingers graze across the freshly assaulted hickey on her neck and the slightest touch lights up the pain receptors in her brain. She finds that she likes it.

“I’ve had this dream before and I’m not about to make it a reality.”

“You dreamed about us making out in Research and Development?”

“Not exactly that, but close enough. We were — actually no, it’s irrelevant.”

“Wrong. It’s definitely relevant.”

“I’m not having this discussion with you. We never should’ve done this, not at work.”

“But I like kissing you.”

“It’s unethical.”

“So you like kissing me too. Got it.”

“We can’t do this again.”

“What about in the car? The car was fun. A little uncomfortable, but I can fix that with enough notice.”

“I need you to move from between my legs, please.”

“Give me five minutes of your time and I can guarantee you’ll never say those words again.”

It’s the look Pepper gives him that makes Tony back away, his hands up, palms toward her as if he’s surrendering to something, and in a way, he supposes he has. He watches as Pepper slides gracefully from the holotable and shrugs on her blazer, straightening and smoothing her hair and clothes before giving Tony a quick once over. His hair is a bit messy from where she’d pulled on it, but a few quick comb throughs with her fingers fixes it back into place.

“Please take a seat,” Pepper says, gesturing to Tony’s chair. He’ll humor her this time, but only because she let him somewhat feel her up, even if it was just for a few minutes and overtop her shirt. Tony Stark takes what he can get.

“So as I was saying, the prospect of Stark partnering with the Military on the CWI,” she begins, picking up where she left off as if she hadn’t just been making out with her boss minutes before, “is going to offer a huge boost in productivity. We need them to help us with the global phase if we hope to accomplish anything and make an impact. Now, I also want to discuss some of the defense tech you’ve been working on.”

Already Tony is losing interest and is far too focused on the hickey he reddened with his mouth. The little patch of skin keeps peeking through her hair when she moves just right and that causes him to have some bizarre sense of pride.

“Mr. Stark!” Jeffrey, the head of R&D says as he enters the workspace. “We brought you lunch. Figured you could use it.”

Tony’s eyes light up for two reasons. One, food. Two, as much as he loves listening to Pepper talk, he needs a break. He’s nowhere near being in the right mindset to have this level of serious conversation right now.

“You deserve a raise,” Tony says, ignoring Pepper as she tries to pull his attention back to her. He takes the bag Jeffrey offers him and opens it to find French fries and a burger from his favorite burger joint.

“Oh, Miss. Potts, sorry to cut this conversation short, but I’m starving and these men need their space back. Rain check? How about tomorrow, same time, my office. And thanks again, Jeff,” Tony says, pausing at the door. “Oh and Miss. Potts . . .”

Pepper stops gathering up her things and half-eaten salad and looks at Tony who subtly taps his collarbone. Immediately her cheeks redden and she reaches up a hand to adjust her hair back into place.

“. . . don’t forget you have a meeting with Obadiah in about five minutes.”


	11. no strings attached

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tries assuring Pepper that they can definitely have a "no strings attached" type of relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been on a writing SPREE and have so many new chapters for this fic waiting to be posted!
> 
> You have all been so lovely and great champions of this story and these characters, so to show my appreciation, this chapter is one of **three** to be included in a mini-chapter dump! Enjoy the next few installments in this fic without having to wait between individual chapter postings!

“. . . not that I have any clue why I’ve allowed this to happen not once but _twice_!”

Pepper is standing in the middle of Tony’s office, pacing back and forth in her bare feet, her hands waving wildly in the air as she starts in on her seventh minute of lecturing Tony about boundaries and why there is no way in _hell_ they can ever kiss each other again, let alone at work.

No, not even in the car. She’d told him that the moment he opened his mouth to protest.

“Can you even imagine what this would look like if it ever got out? Jesus, Tony! One lapse in judgement on my part—.”

“Two.”

“Two? Two what?”

“Two lapses in judgement, Pepper. Not one.”

“ _Semantics_.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Shut up and eat your lo mein.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Pepper stops in the middle of Tony’s office and glowers at him from where she stands. He looks so relaxed and just the tiniest bit of smug as he shovels lo mein into his mouth as if he hasn’t had an actual meal in weeks. He’s gotten under her skin already and he knows it, thrives on the fact that he’s making _the_ Pepper Potts practically come unglued in the middle of his office.

“You’re stressing out about nothing, Potts,” Tony says around a bite of his egg roll. “It was nice. It _is_ nice, kissing you. I don’t see what the big deal is if we’re just . . . casual about the whole thing.”

“People tend to frown on those who sleep with their boss.”

Tony raises a brow at her and puts his chopsticks in the takeout container in front of him before leaning back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head.

“Last time I checked, you wouldn’t even let me get to second base with you,” Tony says.

“We were in Research and Development in the middle of the workday! And I know I don’t need to remind you of all people that the entire front of R&D is nothing but floor-to-ceiling glass windows!” Pepper snaps, throwing her hands in the air in frustration.

Must Tony always be so blasé about these things? Part of his attitude stems simply from the fact that he’s, well, Tony Stark. He has a reputation for not giving a damn, for being more than open with his personal life, for having expensive tastes in cars, scotch, and women. It’s a privilege not many people have, especially people like Pepper — intelligent, headstrong women who are determined to bust through the glass ceiling — and try as she might, Pepper still struggles with getting Tony to understand that.

“That’s precisely my point,” he says, leaning forward to push some papers out of his way so he can prop his feet on his desk.

“I’m not following you . . .”

“The point is, you’re not sleeping with your boss — at least you’re not _yet_ ,” Tony adds suggestively. “We’re two grown, consenting adults who happen to like making out in interesting places. And okay, so maybe some people would look down on that, but who cares? I’m the boss, Pepper. No one can fire you but me and I say this,” he gestures between them, “is perfectly fine.”

“You know as well as I do that people talk, Tony. You can’t walk out of this building without being hounded by at least one reporter. We’re talking about my reputation here!”

Pepper starts pacing again, arms folded tightly across her chest as she attempts to wear a literal hole in the floor of Tony’s office. He sighs and shakes his head at her.

“Potts, sit down. You’re making me nervous.”

Surprisingly, Pepper stops pacing and sits down in one of the chairs in front of Tony’s desk. She’s not pacing anymore, but she’s started bouncing her knee and Tony doesn’t know whether that or the pacing is worse.

“Listen, I like you. You like me. We’re friends, which is great. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with friends doing . . . friend stuff. I’ll be honest with you, I most definitely want to kiss you again, maybe next time get to second base . . . eventually hit a home run, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I know what you mean. I don’t understand why you have to talk like a middle schooler. Just say you want to have sex, we’re adults, Tony. Remember?”

“Okay, but listen! Neither of us is looking for anything serious right now and this is the perfect way for the _both_ of us to let off a little steam, yeah? And you know there is literally no other woman in the world that I trust more than I trust you. That’s a huge deal, Pepper. I’m telling you, no strings attached. We can just have fun.”

Pepper is silent for a long while, considering the idea while simultaneously screaming at herself to _not do it!_ because this is her boss. But Tony has a point, damn him. She does like him, finds him rather hilarious when he’s not making her do his dirty work or clean up after him. They get along well for the most part and if she’s honest? It’s been a while since she last brought a man home.

Emily’s words from brunch ring in her ears, shrill and loud, a reminder that Pepper can’t make relationships work because of her job and ever-demanding boss. And just because she’s not looking for anything serious doesn’t mean that she’s looking to be completely celibate for the rest of her life. It’s just . . . the whole prospect of this getting out to the media that causes her to hesitate on saying yes.

“I’m not saying yes—.”

“Pepper!”

“Would you let me finish? I’m not saying yes, but I’m also not saying no either. I think we need to have a serious talk where we establish the rules and boundaries if we’re going to do this.”

“Rule number one: there are no boundaries.”

“Wrong answer.”

Tony sighs. She’s going to make this way harder than it needs to be, he thinks.

“Alright, well, what did you have in mind?”

“The shareholders conference call,” Pepper answers, easily switching the topic of conversation. “It’s in ten minutes and we’re not pushing it back _another_ day, so don’t even ask. We can talk about non-work related matters later.”

“Can we do dinner?”

 _No_ , she thinks.

“Sure, we can do dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a short one and nearly got cut from the story entirely, but decided it needed to stay because it really helps capture Pepper's uncertainty.


	12. the agreement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Pepper come to an agreement and make it official

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been on a writing SPREE and have so many new chapters for this fic waiting to be posted!
> 
> You have all been so lovely and great champions of this story and these characters, so to show my appreciation, this chapter is two of **three** to be included in a mini-chapter dump! Enjoy the next few installments in this fic without having to wait between individual chapter postings!

Tony Stark can build high-tech GPS tracking systems and missiles in his sleep. He can rebuild car engines and flying suits after being awake for fifty-six hours straight. What he can’t do, however, is make his way around a kitchen to save his life.

He comes to this realization the moment he returns home after work with Pepper’s promise to stop by around six that evening for dinner ringing in his ears. Cooking isn’t something he does. Normally Pepper is the one to stop by, throw a few meals together, and stick them in the refrigerator for Tony so he’s not constantly living on takeout and pizza. She’s too good to him and he knows it, which is exactly why he opts for ordering pizza instead; he cares too much for Pepper to even consider subjecting her to his cooking skills.

With the pizzas ordered, Tony decides that he can get a little bit of time down in the workshop in before Pepper arrives.

It’s easy enough for Tony to get absorbed in the Roadster rebuild he’s been working on and when JARVIS announces the arrival of the delivery driver, he heads upstairs to collect the pizzas and get cleaned up himself.

As he makes his way back down to the living room, JARVIS announces Pepper’s arrival and Tony is there at the door waiting for her as she pulls up in front of the house. She’s dressed casually, her work clothes replaced with a pair of dark blue jeans and a red v-neck shirt with three quarter-length sleeves. Something tells Tony that if Pepper were to stand next to the Iron Man suit, her top would be the exact same shade as the paint. Something stirs inside him at the thought and he has to push it away.

“Perfect timing, Miss. Potts. The pizza just got here,” he says, moving out of the way to allow Pepper to step over the threshold.

“You ordered pizza?”

“Trust me, it’s better than my cooking. I ordered your favorite, by the way. Cheese pizza with black olives, mushrooms, and bell peppers.”

Pepper pauses just inside the door and slips off her shoes next to the small table where Tony usually throws his keys and sunglasses, tossing her own keys down next to his.

“I’m surprised you remember what I like on pizza,” she says, stepping into the living room. The pizza boxes are resting on the coffee table with paper plates stacked on top, along with napkins and a smaller box that Pepper knows for a fact contains breadsticks.

She can smell the garlic from here.

“Hey, I remember the important stuff,” he tells her, taking a seat on one end of the couch while Pepper settles in at the other.

“And my choice in pizza toppings is considered important?”

“Of course it is. So is your coffee order and the fact that you like to color code my calendar, which is surprisingly helpful.”

Pepper looks down at her lap, fighting a smile as she does so. She’s been color coding Tony’s calendar for years and he’s never mentioned it until now. It causes a warm feeling to spread through her chest, just knowing something she puts so much time and effort into is noticed by Tony, the man who seems to have the attention span of a toddler most days.

The two of them eat in relative silence, the sounds from the Dodgers-Cubs game playing on the TV serving more as a buffer from the otherwise borderline-awkward silence that would surely have settled between Pepper and Tony by now. When they’re finished, their plates and napkins tossed haphazardly on top of the pizza boxes once again, Tony shifts in his seat, angling his body toward Pepper.

She does the same, turning so her back is pressed against the arm of the couch, legs tucked beneath her while her hands rest in her lap. This is such an odd thing to be discussing with her boss, and yet here she is, doing just that.

“Alright,” Tony says, clearing his throat. Now that she’s here and ready to talk, Tony doesn’t have a clue as to where he should even begin. For a man who is usually all quips and one-liners, he’s oddly quiet.

“Can I just say something?” Pepper asks.

Tony lets out a sigh of relief and nods. “Please do.”

“This is weird to me, okay? You’re my boss and we don’t really do the whole best friends thing; I’m always here in a professional capacity and now that I’m not . . .”

“You’re out of your element,” Tony supplies.

“Yes, exactly.”

“I’m out of mine too, you know. I’m used to you bossing me around and pushing me out the door to get somewhere on time. I never expected you to be sitting on my couch to discuss a friends-with-benefits agreement.”

At the term, ‘friends with benefits,’ Pepper begins worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth and nods, as if she’s suddenly rethinking this entire thing now that he’s put a name to it. Tony is quick to catch the nervous habit and tries to backpedal as quickly and efficiently as he can.

“Look, Pepper. I like you and I trust you, we’ve established that. And I think you like me too, or at least you do most days. So let’s just have fun with it.”

“If we’re going to do this, we have to have rules.”

“You mentioned that . . .”

“We’re not dating, we don’t go on dates. Other than the occasional hookup, our lives stay separate.”

Tony raises a brow. “ _Occasional_? I think it’s going to be more than an occasional thing.”

“My place is off limits,” Pepper continues, ignoring Tony’s comments, knowing that he’s baiting her, a skill he’s surprisingly good at. “I’ve never mixed my personal and professional lives together and I need to keep a space that’s mine and mine alone. Got it?”

“Your place is off limits, we’re not dating, and we don’t go on dates. Understood. Anything else?”

“We’re allowed to date other people, but if you . . .”

Pepper trails off, not sure how she should tackle this part of the conversation. It’s been the one thing that’s been holding her back from the moment Tony suggested they strike up a casual fling. It’s no secret to anyone — least of all to Pepper — that Tony Stark likes to overindulge himself on a wide variety of women; he’s been this way for years, bringing home a different woman three nights a week with the expectation that Pepper will be there to escort them out in the morning while he hides away in the workshop.

She decides to rephrase. “Look, I don’t care if you go out with other women, but I’m asking that you don’t sleep with them if we’re going to do this. Naturally I’ll pay you the same respect.”

Tony studies Pepper carefully and for once, is uncharacteristically quiet, even after she finishes speaking. It makes her wonder if he’s going to call this whole thing off, if her rules and boundaries are too much for him to agree to.

“Yeah, that’s reasonable,” he says after a moment. He seems so relaxed with agreeing to her request that Pepper can’t help but wonder if he’s going to come back with an exception to the rule. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not really seeing too many people right now.”

Tony taps his fingers against the middle of his chest, connecting with what Pepper knows is the arc reactor beneath his shirt. Sure, Tony’s been photographed with multiple women on his arm since his return from Afghanistan, but that doesn’t mean he’s been bringing them home afterward. In fact, Pepper can’t remember the last woman she had to escort from the house.

“Is that everything?”

“Not quite . . . just a few more little small things I want to mention. No more _identifying marks_ in places I can’t easily cover,” Pepper says, gesturing to the spot on her neck at the exact moment Tony decides it’s absolutely necessary to lick his lips like a cat who’s caught the canary. “And I don’t spend the night unless I have to.”

“I feel like you want to say more.”

“Just one other thing,” she says, her tone no longer timid but quite firm. “Work is _work,_ Tony. Keep your hands and mouth to yourself.”

“I can’t promise you that’ll I’ll always be on my best behavior, but I’ll do my best,” Tony says, throwing up the Boy Scout salute, or at least what he hopes is the Boy Scout salute.

Pepper would like to argue, but she keeps her mouth shut for two reasons. One, she knows this is Tony’s best effort and it’s nearly impossible to change such a creature of habit. Two, she also knows that if she pushes the topic, Tony will absolutely go rogue and try to kiss and feel her up every chance he gets at the office because he’s a child who will do the literal opposite of anything he’s told to do.

_Don’t do the weapons demonstration in Afghanistan, do it out in Utah. Don’t be late to this very important meeting._ _Don’t flirt with that woman. Don’t drink that fourth glass of scotch. Don’t yell at Dum-E. Don’t piss off the Board of Directors. Don’t make an ass out of yourself on national television. Don’t kiss me._

Okay, so the last one doesn’t really count and Pepper knows it. But that’s not the point — the point is, Tony literally does the exact opposite of what he’s supposed to. She’s worked for him for years and has yet to figure out why he is the way that he is, so she’s decided to stop trying to figure him out and just go with the flow as best she can.

Which is why she’s agreeing to strike up a friends with benefits relationship with her boss despite the fact that she knows this is a terrible idea.

“I think . . . I think that’s everything,” Pepper says, able to breathe a bit easier now. “And you’re okay with it all?”

“A little demanding, but I’ll survive,” Tony says, but his expression tells Pepper he’s only teasing. “I feel like we need to make this official and shaking hands is so germy . . .”

Tony doesn’t give Pepper a chance to protest, not that she would’ve. She’s far too busy watching his mouth move, the way his tongue slides out for a brief second to wet his bottom lip. And then he’s moving toward her, his shirt tightening across his chest and arms as he reaches out for her.

“Whoa, you should wear this shirt more often,” Pepper tells him as Tony shifts so he’s partially on top of her.

Pepper is forced to bend back slightly in order to look up at Tony has he towers over her and she finds that the thought of him above her sends a shiver up her spine.

“Yeah? It looks better on the floor. I could show you if you’d like.”

“Be patient. I’m far more interested in this mouth of yours for the moment. You know . . . to make our deal official.”

Sliding a hand up his arm, Pepper pushes her fingers into Tony’s hair, twisting the strands around a few times before pulling him down to her, all soft kisses and pleased hums.

Despite the indented softness and intimacy of the moment, Pepper soon realizes that Tony is far too eager for slow and steady. The moment their mouths connect, Tony takes control, dictating the intensity and passion in the way he kisses her. Naturally, Pepper shifts beneath him, fingers tightening in his hair as she opens her mouth to him.

He tastes like the glass of scotch he drank with dinner — smoky and dark with just the slightest hint of citrus. It’s a strange, yet enjoyable flavor, but it’s inherently _Tony._

_No one else can taste exactly like this_ , she thinks, those few words being her last coherent thoughts as her brain goes fuzzy and her body warm and tingly. All her favorite sensations are layered on top of each other, layered on top of Tony’s warm mouth.

Pepper is too focused on the actual _feeling_ that at first, she doesn’t even register the fact that Tony’s hand is now between their bodies, expertly undoing the button of her jeans and pushing them down her hips with one hand all while Pepper is getting lost in his mouth. She lifts her hips as best she can with Tony on top of her and she feels the denim slide down her thighs. The positioning and limited space on the couch makes things a little difficult, but Pepper manages to wriggle just enough so she can _finally_ kick her jeans off the rest of the way.

Tony tears his mouth from Pepper’s, much to her dismay, but he quickly refocuses himself on her jaw, taking his sweet time mapping the curve with his lips, careful not to leave any visible marks as he nips at the skin; the last thing he needs is for Pepper to call this thing off before it really even has the chance to begin.

As Tony shifts atop Pepper, his knee spreading her thighs just a bit more, he slips a hand into the waistband of her panties in sync with sinking his teeth into her pulse point located at the base of her throat. It earns him a rather loud gasp from Pepper and the fingers in his hair that had gone somewhat lax were tighter than ever.

“ _Tony_ ,” Pepper says, breathless as he allows his fingers to explore her, slowly. Methodically.

It’s not a secret to anyone, least of all Tony, that Pepper is always wound so tight that she’s constantly on the verge of snapping. She doesn’t know it yet, but it’s suddenly become Tony’s personal mission to constantly surprise her in ways that help her unwind. If that requires the expert use of his fingers or mouth in a surprise fashion, so be it.

Friends don’t let friends carry around stress. Luckily for Pepper, Tony is a _very_ good friend.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Tony whispers against the shell of Pepper’s ear, his fingers still exploring and slipping through her folds with just a little more persistence than before. He’s doing something right because Pepper’s teeth are clenched with the inability to speak at the moment. all while her hips rhythmically shift upward, seeking more friction than Tony is willing to give her just yet.

“Ihateitwhenyoutalk,” comes the rushed words from Pepper’s mouth. She doesn’t want to talk and certainly doesn’t want Tony talking either, not when he clearly has other more important things to be concentrating on.

“But it’s a good secret,” he murmurs, an evident smile in his voice. “I know you want to hear it.”

Even as she defiantly shakes her head back and forth, Tony knows she’s listening despite the fact that she just told him to essentially shut up a few moments prior. He adjusts his hand just so and slides one finger inside her warmth, groaning against her ear as he does so. She’s just as warm and tight as he’d imagined and it’s ridiculously unfair that he made the decision to be a gentleman and not rush things because all he wants to do right now is take her on the couch over and over again until they’re both seeing stars.

But this isn’t about him, no. This is about Pepper and getting her to relax, to get her used to the idea of actually doing something like _this_ with him. So far, it seems to be working.

“You know the other night, after the movies . . . you kissed me in the car?”

Pepper doesn’t speak, but she vocalizes something in understanding, a sound somewhere between a whine and a whimper. She’s far too focused on the way Tony just barely brushes against her clit every time he moves his finger inside her. Something tells her it’s not an accident either, that he’s doing it on purpose.

“So I got home,” Tony continues, nipping at her earlobe. “And as much as I didn’t want to, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, even when I was in the workshop.”

He slides a second finger inside of Pepper with ease and sighs at the gasp and sudden upward jerk of her hips. There’s an established rhythm, one Tony isn’t about to break while he has Pepper teetering between not enough and too much pleasure. It’s a fun place to be, even more fun watching her grapple with the fact that she’s _not quite there yet_ when it’s obvious she’s desperate to reach that point.

All in good time.

“I didn’t want to fight it, couldn’t fight it, so I got off to a fantasy of you, right there in the middle of the workshop.”

Tony hears the stuttering hitch in Pepper’s throat as her brain catches up to the meaning behind his words and he can’t help but smile against her skin as he swipes his thumb purposefully over her clit, experimenting with various types of pressure. Knowing how to please a woman is easy; with a little bit of practice and a few trial-and-error sessions, it’s not all that hard. The hard part is knowing each individual woman inside and out, knowing exactly what hidden little buttons to push and which ones to not, all without needing to ask.

“And now I’m getting you off in the middle of my living room. Very hot, by the way, Miss. Potts,” Tony adds all while adjusting the rhythm of his fingers with that of his thumb.

It earns him another high-pitched, sudden whine that contrasts the soft mewling noises Pepper’s been making. Her hand drops from the back of Tony’s head to his shoulder, fingers flexing against the cotton of his t-shirt in time with each moan she doesn’t manage to hold back.

It’s the combination of his hand between her legs and mouth on the sensitive spot about an inch below her ear that causes Pepper to finally come in what she can only describe as a sea of unknown pleasure. Her back arches from the couch as she cries out and to Tony’s credit, he doesn’t immediately pull away, instead following the writhing of Pepper’s body beneath him, making sure he doesn’t cut the moment too short for her.

It’s not until she’s still beneath him that he removes his hand, wiping his fingers off on his jeans before reaching out to tuck Pepper’s hair behind her ear. He remains quiet, watching as Pepper finds her grip on reality. It’s not until she opens her eyes and looks up at him that he speaks.

“Good?”

As if he doesn’t already know the answer.

“ _Very_ good,” Pepper says honestly. Already she understands why women tend to flock to him over and over and she’s only ever had his fingers inside her.

“Oh, if you thought that was good, you should see what I can do with my tongue.”

Somewhere, deep inside her brain and behind the haze of everything, is a sharp retort for such a comment but Pepper is far too sated for a battle of wits and quips with Tony.

“I think I can handle this whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing,” Pepper says after a moment, tilting her head to the side as tendrils of red shift across the dark leather of Tony’s couch. “When do I get to thank you _properly_?”

“Another day,” Tony says causally, sitting up and pulling Pepper with him. She raises a brow at his words and silently points to her jeans that are lying on the floor. Tony hands them to her and watches as she pulls them back on, fighting the smile that comes to his lips when he realizes her hands are still shaking while she tries to slide the button into place.

Pepper sits back down on the edge of the couch, her hair a disheveled mess from the way she moved against the leather, though that doesn’t stop her from trying to comb the tangles free of her hair with her fingers.

“I would hardly call this fair,” she says, gesturing between them.

Tony is quiet for a few moments and looks at Pepper thoughtfully, causing a blush to rise high in her cheeks

“Tonight wasn’t about me, it was about you and making you feel good. I wanted you to relax, to see that this can be fun and that you didn’t make the wrong decision by telling me yes.”

“That’s sweet.”

“You of all people know I’m not the asshole the press likes to try and make me out to be,” he says with just a twinge of bitterness in his voice.

“You’re not and I know that.” She pauses, almost hesitantly. “Can I ask you one other question?”

“Shoot.”

“Were you serious about the whole fantasy thing in the workshop or were you just trying really hard to get me off?”

“I was absolutely serious, Potts.”

“That’s . . . is it weird that I find the idea a bit attractive?”

“Not at all. You wanna know the craziest part about the whole thing?”

“Uh, I’m not sure, but I feel like you want to tel me anyway, so go ahead.”

“I hadn’t gotten off to something that tame since I was fourteen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is dedicated to my beta and I refuse to let her read it ahead of time, so apologies for any and all mistakes!


	13. lunch meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey joins Pepper and Tony for a lunch meeting.
> 
> Lots of fluff and fun, and Tony being well, Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been on a writing SPREE and have so many new chapters for this fic waiting to be posted!
> 
> You have all been so lovely and great champions of this story and these characters, so to show my appreciation, this chapter is three of **three** to be included in a mini-chapter dump! Enjoy the next few installments in this fic without having to wait between individual chapter postings!

“Alright, fine. What about Atlantic City then? They have casinos and scantily clad women to ply you with all the Whiskey Sours you could ever dream of.”

“Who said I even wanted a birthday party?”

“Are you telling me you don’t want to go to Atlantic City for your birthday? I thought it was a little odd when you said no to Vegas, but to say no to Atlantic City too? You alright, man? I’m starting to get a little worried now.”

Tony sighs as he and Rhodey walk down the sidewalk together, tugging uncomfortably on his tie. It’s unseasonably hot out for an early day in May, bordering on excessive humidity, the kind that makes him long for the bitter cold months of a New York winter. He’s been summoned to lunch by Pepper and while he would normally jump on the chance to have lunch with her, just the two of them, she specifically stated that it would be a _lunch meeting_ and therefore, Rhodey has to come along too . . . he needs someone there to make things a little less boring.

As they walk to the Manufacturing building where Pepper said she would meet them, Tony is starting to wonder if dragging his best friend along was the right move. Rhodey has been on Tony’s ass for the last fifteen minutes regarding his birthday, and the more they talk about it, the more Tony realizes that a party is the last thing on his mind right now. Any other time, Tony would be planning something ridiculous and over the top, something lavish that includes pretty blondes and brunettes in a sea of the best liquor his money can buy; but this year is different. He chalks up his change in heart to the fact that he’s still dealing with and working through the events in Afghanistan — not that he’ll ever admit it to anyone — which is a valid enough excuse.

It might have a little something to do with Pepper, but he doesn’t put much thought into that; she’s the one that said she doesn’t care what he does with women as long as he’s not sleeping with them _and_ her at the same time, which is something he’s willing to concede on, not that he’s been doing much sleeping around. But, even if he was, he’d still give Pepper that courtesy.

So no, it’s not Pepper. It’s Afghanistan and the fact that he’s trying to keep his Iron Man identity under wraps all while trying to reinvent his company. Being tortured in Afghani cave with no real hope of rescue for months on end changes a man, even men named Tony Stark.

“I dunno, Rhodey. I just don’t think it’s a wise idea. You know how I am when I have one too many drinks. I’m trying to stay on Pepper’s good side here; the last thing I need is to blurt out the whole _superhero_ thing in front of a crowd of a hundred or more strangers.”

Silence falls between the two men as Rhodey considers this, eventually nodding in agreement. He’s seen Tony in action enough times over the years to know that secrets and alcohol don’t mix.

“So why exactly are you dragging me along to this lunch meeting?”

“Because Potts tends to yell at me less when you’re around.”

“Are you expecting to get yelled at?”

“Well, no, but I can never tell with her. Sometimes she seems perfectly fine but then she starts yelling and the last time she started lecturing me about something, I told her it was hot and she chucked and actual _stapler_ at my head. A stapler! Can you believe her?!”

“Yeah, but if this is a lunch meeting, there won’t be any staplers for her to chuck at your head.”

“You’re right, there’ll be knives.”

This earns Tony a snort from his best friend as they both slow their stride as they near the doors to the manufacturing building.

“I am amazed that she still works for you.”

“Would you be surprised if I said I’ve had to literally get down on my hands and knees to beg her not to go?”

“Honestly, no. That’s the least surprising thing you’ve said all afternoon.”

Being the one to reach the doors first, Rhodey reaches out and grabs onto the handle, pulling the door open and gesturing for Tony to lead the way. He watches as Tony strides into the expansive lobby with a slightly smug smile on his face. Always the charmer, Tony.

In a rather surprising turn of events, Rhodey watches as Tony’s once smooth stride falters and he stops in the middle of the floor, looking a little awestruck at something in front of him.

Pepper is leaning her elbows against the receptionist’s desk, her back to both of the men. She’s bent over slightly, hair slightly curled and spilling down her back. It looks vibrant and silky, and suddenly Tony wants to wrap his hands in it and pull, to see the want and need flash in her eyes.

And then there’s everything else she has on display too — her legs, the way her back arches forward as she continues to lean against the desk, the dangerously high heels she’s wearing helping to accent every single one of her curves, her _ass_. All of his favorite parts of Pepper (minus one or two) all on display, just for him. What he wouldn’t give to demand everyone leave the building except for her . . .

“I see the way you look at her.”

Rhodey’s half-whispered statement nearly sends Tony through the roof as he startles, whipping his head in the other man’s direction. He wasn’t staring _that_ much.

“I wasn’t staring,” Tony says, trying to come off as if this is the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“Right,” Rhodey says, giving him a wink. “Now I see why you don’t want to go to Vegas or Atlantic City. Why travel when you have all the pretty blondes right here working for you, am I right?”

_Pretty blondes_ . . . oh. _Oh_! Rhodey doesn’t mean Pepper, he means the other woman, the receptionist. Of course he didn’t mean Pepper. As far as anyone is concerned, Pepper is off-limits to Tony and he plans on keeping it that way.

He watches as Pepper talks with Michelle . . . or maybe it’s Monica, he can’t remember. All he knows is that she’s new and she was one of Pepper’s suggested candidates when they were looking to hire someone; he had no idea she checked just about every single one of his “type” boxes. Normally, Tony would be drooling over this woman but it’s not her that he’s focused on for once, though he has no plans of correcting Rhodey.

“Don’t tell my secrets,” Tony says with a grin, one that says _I can’t help it, I have a type._

He turns his attention back to Pepper, allowing himself four more seconds to take in her glorious stance, before calling out to her, effectively ending any thoughts that had been trying to creep their way into his brain.

“Potts! I’m starving over here!”

Pepper straightens at the sound of her voice and turns toward Tony, smiling as she does so. There are no hidden messages in her smile, no secret lustful glances, just one hundred percent, pure professionalism.

Tony hates it.

“Ah, there you are. I see you dragged Rhodey along for lunch as well.”

“That’s what I get for being with him when you called. A little heads up next time would be nice,” Rhodey jokes as Pepper crosses the lobby to join the two of them.

“He’s my handler when you’re not around,” Tony explains, shoving one hand into the pocket of his dress pants while using the other to gesture at Pepper’s outfit as she stops across from him. “You look nice. New skirt?”

“No, you’re just not used to seeing me in Navy,” she says with a wave of dismissal, gesturing instead toward the lobby doors. “Happy should be here in the next few minutes, if he isn’t already. We have reservations for lunch downtown in twenty minutes.”

* * *

They’ve been at the restaurant for less than five minutes and already Pepper is already regretting her decision to make this a lunch meeting; it’s just a bit past noon and Tony has already strong armed Rhodey into ordering a Scotch and Soda. He tried to convince her to order a glass of wine — _live a little, Potts!_ — but she refused.

“All I’m saying is, Batman could totally take Superman in a fight if he really wanted to,” Tony is saying around a mouthful of complementary bread. “He’s not called the Dark Knight for nothing.”

“But it’s _Superman_ ,” Rhodey protests, looking to Pepper for input. “Tell him, Pepper. Superman is superior. The man flies!”

“I’d actually prefer it if we took the focus off fictional superheroes and shifted to discussing the capabilities of our local current manufacturing center. I finally heard back from Lockheed Martin and have the meeting between you and the VP scheduled,” Pepper said, turning her attention toward Tony. “I think we should consider what our options are, should you decide to sign a contract with them.”

“You didn’t tell me you got a meeting set up with Lockheed,” Tony says, poking at his salad with his fork, opting for more bread instead of the rabbit food Pepper is always trying to make him eat.

Pepper rolls her eyes at him. “I sent you an email.”

“You didn’t!”

“Well I _did_ , but that’s not the point. The point is, based on the equipment and set up of the building, it’s just not cost effective to outfit it to meet the current needs and standards should this contract go through. It would be beneficial to us to look at expanding with a brand new facility. It’s something you’ve been talking about for a while now,” Pepper points out. “I think you need to really consider moving forward with the growth and revitalization plan you introduced to the board last October.”

Tony considers this for a moment, his expression thoughtful as he runs through the potential a new facility would bring the company.

“Alright, let’s say we move forward with this . . . what if I decide not to sign a contact with Lockheed? This is going to be an expensive project, not that I care, Stark definitely has the money to build ten new facilities, but the Board. God, Pepper, _the Board_ , they’re such a pain in my ass. You know they’re going to fight this.”

“You let me take care of the Board,” she says, stabbing at her salad a little harder than necessary. “Even if you don’t sign with Lockheed, I think we’ll be okay. It’s not like you’ve stopped creating new products. Based off past growth within Stark of a similar nature, a new building, especially if we build outside of the US, could boost the company stocks by eight percent in the first two quarters after we get the new facility up and running.”

“What do you think, Honey Bear?”

The use of his nickname — if you can even call it that — earns Tony a scowl from Rhodey before he speaks. “It’s been a while since Stark has had the opportunity to make such a splash in the headlines and while you’ve quietly started building back up SI stock, this announcement certainly wouldn’t hurt. People thought you were crazy when you shut down the weapons manufacturing division, showing them that you’re still very much relevant in the world of tech and development is exactly what the company needs.”

Tony knows Pepper and Rhodey are both right. This would be a huge step forward for Stark Industries, something they desperately need. While the numbers have risen over the last few months, it’s been a slow increase and the shareholders are breathing down his neck which means he’s naturally breathing down Pepper’s and _not_ in the way he should and wants to be. He finds his thoughts are wandering again, wandering to Pepper and the way she’d shattered against his fingers just last Tuesday. He wants to do it again.

“Tony, are you even listening?”

“Huh?” he asks, looking to Rhodey who’s just spoken. “Sorry, lost in thought.”

“Apparently. I said, I think Pepper deserves to be considered far more than just a personal assistant. I swear she’s doing more for the company than Stane is.”

“Obie likes his comfy office, so I leave him be. It’s easier that way. And trust me, Rhodey, I am in complete and total awe of Potts. She’s the only reason the company hasn’t gone completely under due to my lack of being far too busy with things that are more fun . . . like cars and three-week vacations,” he says, smiling over at Pepper. “But no, seriously, I think you’re right, Pep. I think this kind of change would increase productivity and efficiency by what, fifteen percent?”

“Give or take,” Pepper agrees. “I figured you might see my side of things, so I’ve already gone ahead and pulled some numbers and put together a list of potential places — both inside and outside of the US — we should consider building in. I’ve sent it to your email and left a paper copy on your desk.”

“You did?”

“I did. You were in R&D all morning, weren’t you?”

Tony at least has the decency to look sheepishly at her as he answers.

“Yes, but I wanted to show Honey Bear here the new thermal energy system I’m working on.”

“I’m not surprised, but I do need you to look over that information. It’s a bit dense, I know, but it’s important that we understand what we’re getting ourselves into when looking at expanding, especially out of the country. You might want to have Obadiah look over the information too, just for a second set of eyes.”

“You know you owe her big time, right?” Rhodey asks.

“I’ll make it up to her, don’t you worry,” Tony retorts, just a little too pleased with himself. It earns him a sharp glare from Pepper across the table, one that is so fast, he barely has time to recognize it for what it is.

“I’m just going to take one of his credit cards and go buy enough ice cream to last me the next six months,” she says, catching their waitress coming toward their table with their food. She begins gathering up the salad bowls to get them out of the way.

“If you want ice cream, I’ll take you out for ice cream,” Tony says, scoffing.

“That’s nice, but let’s be real here, everyone knows you’ll forget.”

Tony looks at Rhodey, his expression incredulous as he gestures at Pepper. “Can you believe this? It’s like she doesn’t have faith in me.”

“Well, in her defense,” Rhodey starts. “You have a bit of a reputation for not remembering things.”

“Now you’re just making things up,” he says, sticking his fork into his pasta to begin twirling it around. “I’m taking you out for ice cream, Pepper. Just to prove a point.”

“Fine, I’m free for a few hours Saturday afternoon.”

“Good, Saturday at one. It’s a date.”

“No,” she says, shifting in her seat just enough to run the pointed toe of her heel up the inside of his calf, nearly causing him to choke on a mouthful of pasta. “It’s not a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is dedicated to my beta and I refuse to let her read it ahead of time, so apologies for any and all mistakes!


	14. saturday shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do APOLOGY PEONIES, UBERS, ICE CREAM, and BIG WORDS all have in common? This chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

As Tony nears Pepper’s house, he can just start to make out the silhouette of Pepper’s form against the bright sun. She’s in her front yard, on her knees and bent over slightly, and as he draws closer, Tony realizes she’s working in the small flowerbed that sits directly beneath her front window. 

Her hair is up in a messy bun, a look he’s only seen on a handful of occasions, and dressed in an old pair of denim shorts and a razor-backed purple tank top. He pulls the Audi into her driveway, expecting Pepper to look up and over at him, but her head is still down, hands buried in the dirt. 

With the car in park, Tony slides from the driver’s seat and makes his way over to where Pepper is diligently pulling weeds from around pretty colored flowers that are really starting to bloom. He spots the little white wireless earbuds in her ears as he gets closer to her which explains why she didn’t notice him pulling into her driveway. 

It’s not until he’s close enough to cause a shadow across her workspace that Pepper looks up, squinting at him with one eye closed. She leans back, raises one hand to shield her eyes from the sun, and reaches up with the other to remove an earbud. 

“Tony,” she says, her face still scrunched against the heat of the sun on her skin. “What’re you doing here?” 

Tony moves to the edge of Pepper’s front porch and sits down, the concrete cool against his palms as he grabs onto the edge and leans forward. There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, a smirk on his lips that Pepper has come to know as Tony’s _I have an idea and you can’t stop me_ smirk. 

“It’s Saturday,” he responds, taking note of how pink her shoulders already are from being under the hot California sun. There’s a smudge of dirt in a swipe across her forehead, as if she reached up with a dirty hand to wipe away the perspiration that had collected there. It was a look so unlike the poised and polished Pepper Potts that Tony was used to, and the sight nearly took his breath away. 

“Yes, I know,” she responds. “That’s why I’m here at home instead of at the office. These weeds won’t pull themselves and I have some new flowers to plant.” 

Pepper gestures to the black plastic containers that are in the small shaded spot next to the flowerbed as if Tony wouldn’t believe her unless he saw them firsthand. Flowers in nearly every vibrant shade are peeking out from their prepackaged dirt, many of the buds just now starting to bloom. 

“Yeah, well, this ice cream won’t lick itself so . . .” 

“Did you really just turn ice cream into a euphemism? Because if you did, you can forget it.” 

“No, I’m being serious! It’s Saturday and granted, it’s a little after one, but I promised you ice cream for all the hard work you’ve put in lately — not that ice cream is indicative of your level of work, you definitely deserve a raise — but I’m trying to do better about the whole _keeping my promises_ thing.” 

There is a look of confusion on Pepper’s face and it takes her brain a moment longer than it should for things to make sense, but then she remembers the conversation she and Tony and Rhodey had at lunch earlier in the week and everything makes sense now. 

“Oh! Honestly I didn’t even think about it because I figured you’d forgotten the moment the topic of conversation changed.” 

“Like I could ever forget ice cream.” _And snagging the opportunity to see you outside of work._

“You would be the one to forget a shareholders meeting but remember an ice cream date.” 

Tony raises a brow. “I thought this wasn’t a date?” 

“Semantics.” 

Pepper turns back to the flowerbed and yanks up another clump of weeds, the roots dangling down from her fist. She tosses the clump into the small pile next to her and reaches down to gently pull a few dead petals off a yellow flower. Tony thinks it might be a daisy, but he really has no clue. 

“You can give me twenty more minutes to finish up here, right? I want to at least get these weeds pulled; I can easily plant the flowers tomorrow, one more day isn’t going to hurt anything. And I’ll need to take a quick shower, obviously.” 

“Yeah, of course. And maybe after we stop for ice cream, I could talk you into coming back to my place for a bit?” 

Pepper looks up, a wicked grin on her face that sends all the blood rushing straight to Tony’s groin. 

“I think that sounds like a lovely idea, Mr. Stark.” 

* * *

“And that,” Tony says, “is for you.” 

He slides the napkin he’s just scribbled his name on, across the countertop toward the young woman who’d just handed him his ice cream cone — mint chip — and gives her his best smile before grabbing a handful of clean napkins from the dispenser. 

It’s easy to locate Pepper at the picnic tables despite the small crowd of people lined up at the two service windows; she’s sitting atop a free table, feet up on the bench, and she’s leaned back on one hand while she holds her cone with the other. The sun hits her in all the right places, bathing her in golden rays that causes her hair to sparkle more than normal. She looks ethereal, like something to be worshiped, and not for the first time, Tony is once again in awe of her. 

“I see you met a fan,” Pepper says as Tony comes to sit next to her. 

“Being held captive for three months in an Afghani cave has done wonders for my company and my status with the public. Could you imagine what would happen if another little secret got out?” 

“Based on the way you’re talking and the way you’re looking at me, I can’t tell which of the big two secrets you’re referring to, but either way, I suggest you don’t leak either of them to the press.” 

“Why I would never! I was just saying, imagine it.” 

“I’d rather not.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Please just eat your ice cream.” 

Tony huffs a little but doesn’t argue with her. If he’s learned anything, it’s that arguing with Pepper never does him any favors. And with the stakes as high as they are right now, he’s certainly not taking any chances. He’s going to be on his best behavior, even if it kills him. 

Scratch that — he’d _planned_ on being on his best behavior, but there is no way anyone can expect him to be when Pepper Potts is sitting next to him and doing _that_ with her tongue as she licks at her ice cream cone. Life is wildly unfair, he realizes, and he shifts where he’s seated. 

“Tell me about . . . your flowerbed,” Tony says after a stretch of silence. Flowerbeds are a safe topic of conversation, innocent and unassuming; a topic that doesn’t make him want to bend her right over the table they’re sitting on. If anyone were to overhear, they’d probably just assume Pepper and Tony both led very boring lives, though that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“Are you seriously asking me about my flowerbed?” Pepper asks with a half-laugh as she licks at a line of melted ice cream that’s trailing down the side of her cone. 

“Yes, it’s called having a conversation.” 

“I didn’t know you knew how to have those.” 

“Ha ha, very funny,” he grumbles. “Tell me about what flowers you planted. I think I saw a daisy in there, but I know absolutely nothing when it comes to that kind of stuff. I have a landscaper for a reason.” 

Pepper smiles at this, and though Tony can’t see her eyes through the lenses of her sunglasses, he knows her eyes are shining with amusement. It’s a signature Pepper Potts smile, one that she rarely gives to anyone but him. What that may or may not mean, he has no idea, but he likes the idea that Pepper has certain smiles that are for him and him alone. 

“The flowerbed is mostly daisies and peonies,” she says. “They’re easy to take care of and they come in such pretty colors. The weather is always so predictably hot and dry, so I end up watering them myself more often than not, but I refuse to switch to a cactus garden.” 

As if to drive this point home, Pepper crunches down hard on her ice cream cone and looks over at Tony who appears absolutely enthralled in such a boring and mundane conversation. 

“Makes sense. You’re definitely more of a flowerbed girl than a cactus garden,” he tells her with just a hint of a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. “Why did you choose peonies though? Why not just a bunch of daisies?” 

“Peonies are my favorite flower.” 

“Really? I didn’t know favorite flowers were something people had.” 

“Yes really. I also find roses to be ostentatious.” 

There she goes again with her wicked vocabulary. God does Tony love it. He wonders for a moment if he can convince her to talk like that when they inevitably find themselves in bed together. 

_Pull it together, Stark._

“Good to know. I will never send you apology roses.” 

“Why would you send me apology roses?” 

“I wouldn’t. I’d send you peonies instead in order to apologize for doing something you already told me not to.” 

“Oh, well that’s . . . thoughtful, I guess.” 

“Apology peonies.” 

“Or, and here’s an idea, how about you just not do the thing that I tell you not to?” 

“And go against every bone in my body? Absolutely not.” 

“You’re insufferable.” 

“You know what else is insufferable? This heat. C’mon, you can finish licking that thing in the car.” 

“You know what else I can lick in your car?” 

“Jesus, Potts! What happened to the whole ‘we’re in public’ bit?” Tony asks, mimicking her voice by pitching his a few octaves higher than usual. 

“What? I was just going to say two ice creams,” she says, giving Tony the look of pure innocence. It’s so unfair how she can go from one extreme to the other without faltering. It’s starting to give him whiplash and Tony finds that he kind of likes it. 

“Do you _want_ two ice creams?” 

“No, I don’t think so,” Pepper says, sliding from the table. 

* * *

The moment they’re in the car and away from the prying eyes of the public, Tony tries talking Pepper into crawling across the center console for what he promises to be the _hottest fifteen minute_ _s_ _of her life_ , but she politely turns down the offer and every other offer to pull off the side of the road that he makes on the way back to his place. 

It’s better this way, he soon realizes after arriving home and getting to witness the glory that is Pepper Potts in the middle of the afternoon. She’s confident and sexy and even cracks a joke and _holy shit_ is this better than uncomfortable car sex. 

Everything about Pepper is soft and sweet, her skin smooth as silk beneath his callous touch, prickling with goosebumps under his fingers while the place between her thighs is soft and warm and oh so inviting.

When he does finally enter her, it’s right after Pepper has cracked another joke, her head tipped back in mid-laugh, and the laughter dies in her throat. It's replaced with sounds Tony Stark has only ever _dreamed_ of hearing come out of Pepper’s mouth. 

He has to remind himself to move even though it would be so much easier for him to just get lost in every single raw and heightened feeling that’s threatening to send him into a sensory overload. It’s in those brief seconds of vulnerability when Pepper chooses to strike, to take charge in a way that only she knows how — by being on top. 

God, she’d make one hell of a CEO. 

It’s that moment that somewhat forces Tony back into the here and now and _oh, sweet Jesus_ , he never expected it to be _quite like this_ , but Pepper Potts is a woman of many hidden talents, including the thing she does with her hips. Tony’s forced to grab onto them, fingertips biting into flesh as he struggles to control her rhythm and speed. She hisses through her teeth at the intensity in which he grabs her, but she doesn’t tell him to stop or to let go. 

They morph into a blur of limbs and mouths, of noises and clashing needs for dominance until Tony wins, but only by his sheer strength. He fists a hand into her hair, fiery tendrils clenched between his fingers as a pair of legs wraps high around his waist, urging him closer to her, almost greedily so. 

Even though he doesn’t consider himself to be religious, Tony Stark still swears he sees God himself in the two seconds before he comes in a hot white flash. He cries out Pepper’s name, pulls hard on her hair as his hips piston forward in a broken and needy rhythm. He wants Pepper to come too, to experience that moment with him still inside her, so he manages to slides his free hand between her legs to help her along, and in two quick movements of his fingers, she is lost to reality, her body naturally tightening around him as he tries to make the ensuing moments last as long as possible. 

Tony watches as a flush of bright red extends down Pepper’s neck to her chest as she arches upward, fingers twisted so tightly in the sheets that her knuckles turn white and leave wrinkles in the silk. 

They’re both quiet for several minutes, the only sound coming from their shallow breathing, though Pepper is the first to eventually break the silence. 

“And to think I was going to spend the day planting flowers.” 

She’s laughing again, the sound filling the room and leaving Tony feeling warm and just a little bit smug. He likes it when Pepper laughs; it reminds him that there is someone behind the calculatingly efficient personal assistant he’s so used to running his life. 

“I told you I remembered things that I consider to be important,” Tony points out as he props himself up on one elbow. “And this was _very_ important.” 

“Which part, exactly?” 

“The ice cream part, of course. The sex was just an added bonus.” 

Pepper makes a small noise of approval before leaning over to press a quick kiss to Tony’s cheek. She’s out of bed before he can even try to convince her to stay, even if it’s just for a few more minutes. Instead, Tony falls back into the pillows and watches the graceful way Pepper collects her clothing and redresses. 

“You sure you’ve got to go so soon?” he asks, hoping his voice doesn’t betray the slight desperation he’s suddenly feeling. 

“Positive,” she tells him, sitting on the edge of the bed to put on her shoes. “This is . . . fun. A definite question of ethics and maybe a bit of my own personal morality, but fun.” 

Pepper pushes herself to her feet and rounds the bed to where Tony is still sprawled out, the arc reactor’s glow dimmed only slightly from the sheet that’s pulled up around his chest. His eyes flick up to meet Pepper’s and he smiles a goofy, lopsided grin at the disheveled mess that is now her hair. 

“Big words, I like them,” he says. 

“Repudiate.” 

“Come again?” 

“You said you liked big words, so I gave you an example.” 

“Can I hear it in a sentence?” 

“Regardless of policies set forth by the Board, Tony Stark prefers to repudiate company policy and procedure whenever he sees fit.” 

“Honestly, that is the hottest thing I think you’ve ever said to me.” 

“You learned something new today,” Pepper says, choosing to ignore his comment. 

“I learned a lot of new things,” Tony points out. “Give me two minutes and I’ll drive you home.” 

“Thanks, but I’ll call an Uber.” 

“An Uber?! Potts, I have many perfectly capable cars!” 

“Yes, I know that, but I’m still calling an Uber. Don’t create habits you won’t be able to break.” 

Tony scoffs, looking incredulously up at Pepper as he does so. “You’re really not going to let me take you home?” 

“No, I’m not. I’ll see you at work on Monday, alright?” 

“If you insist.” 

“I do,” she says, turning away from him. “Oh, and Tony?” 

“Yeah, Potts?” 

“Thanks for the sex.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost made the last line of this the title, but decided I wanted everyone to be surprised by Pepper's final words.
> 
> I hope you all are staying safe and healthy!


	15. dr. pepper

“This is not how I wanted to spend my Wednesday evening, I hope you know that.”

“Contrary to what you might think, Potts, this wasn’t originally how I planned on spending the evening either.”

“I find that hard to believe; you’re always getting yourself into trouble.”

“I take offense to — ow! Be gentle!”

“Gentle went out the window a long time ago. Hold still.”

“How can you expect me to hold still when you’re intent on putting me through intense physical pain?”

“You did this to yourself.”

“Technically, you’re wrong. It was that armed militia.”

“A group of seven people is hardly a militia.”

“It was at least fifteen, maybe more! _Ouch_ , Potts.”

“I have no sympathy for you right now.”

“I can tell.”

Perched on the side of the bathtub, Tony continues to squirm, both under Pepper’s touch and her hard gaze. She’s less than thrilled, that much was made apparent the second she stepped into the house, her usual work attire replaced with an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of leggings.

Pepper has gone quiet, her fingers holding securely onto Tony’s chin as she forces him to look up at her while she dabs at a cut right above his eyebrow. He winces each time she presses down a little harder than necessary but tries not to complain too much.

“You’re lucky you don’t need stitches,” she says after a moment of silence. “Though I still think you need to go to the Emergency Room.”

Taking advantage of being free of Pepper’s grip, Tony shakes his head at her and scoffs, surprised she would even consider suggesting such a thing. A couple of cracked ribs and facial lacerations are hardly enough to warrant a visit to the Emergency Room.

With a fresh washcloth in hand, Pepper catches Tony’s chin in her hand again and angles his face toward the lights, clucking her tongue disapprovingly at him as she does so.

“It’s just a couple of scratches, that’s all,” he says, trying to downplay the severity of the situation.

“They’re more than just scratches. You have a busted lip and you’re going to wake up with a black eye, you’re already bruising.”

“All things that Dr. Pepper can take care of, I’m sure. I have all the faith in the world in you.”

Pepper sighs, the irritation in her voice and posture a little less than it was just five minutes ago.

“How do you expect to explain this to the press?” She asks, her attention now on the cut along his cheek. “This is going to sting, so be ready.”

Stinging is an understatement and Tony pulls back with a hiss, doing his best to squirm away from Pepper and her alcohol soaked washcloth.

“I’m going to tell them my assistant took out all her frustrations on me,” Tony complains, wincing once again before Pepper can even bring the washcloth back up to his cheek.

“Oh please. If I was going to take my frustrations out on you, I’d be sure not to leave any marks.”

“Kinky — Ow!”

“What happened to you keeping the whole Iron Man thing under wraps?” Pepper asks, turning her back to Tony while she busies herself with the first aid kit open on the edge of the sink vanity.

“Rhodey needed a bit of last-minute help at the border, so I stepped in. I have a solid alibi should the press get suspicious, but I don’t think I really have anything to worry about.”

“It was stupid and dangerous and I know Rhodey didn’t just call you up and ask for your help. You terminated the weapons contract with the Government over six months ago, or did you forget?”

“Alright, so I offered my services for free,” Tony shrugs. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Pepper affixes two butterfly bandages on the cut above Tony’s eye and sighs, pushing three Advil into his hand.

“Take the Advil,” she says, and for once, Tony doesn’t argue. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t sneak off in some metal suit to fight armed border militias without telling me.”

“Aha! So you _do_ admit it was a militia.”

“Tony, be serious.”

“I am serious, Pepper. Dead serious.”

“This isn’t at all what I signed on for when I took this job. Now, on your feet.”

With a smile, Tony obliges and stands, watching as Pepper unravels the wide ace bandage in her hands. “Other duties as assigned, Potts. It’s in the job description for a reason.”

“I still don’t like getting late-night phone calls that you nearly got yourself blown up and are refusing proper medical care. It’s stressful and I worry.”

“Are you saying you care about your dear old boss?”

“I care about the future of my job.”

“Ouch, Potts. And to think we had something.”

“Not tonight we don’t. Shirt off and arms up.”

“You’re awfully bossy, you know that?”

The look on Pepper’s face is enough to shut Tony up and he does as he’s been asked, wincing as he drops the shirt onto floor at his feet. They’re both quiet as Pepper begins wrapping the ace bandage around his ribs, though she’s far more gentle now than she had been when it came to the cuts on his face.

“No more Iron Man stuff. Not until you tell the board and give us enough time to finalize a statement for the press. Keeping this,” Pepper pauses to tap the reactor in Tony’s chest, “a secret from the press and the entire world is hard enough right now.”

“I’ll do my best, but you know how Rhodey can be sometimes.”

“Actually, he’s in agreement with me on this.”

Tony’s mouth falls open and he looks at Pepper like she’s just severely wounded his ego.

“You’re talking to Rhodey behind my back now?”

“Of course I am. Someone has to babysit you when I can’t.”

“You wanna know something? There is something seriously wrong with this situation. I’m standing here, half-undressed, and yet all you want to talk about is Rhodey and my superhero persona,” Tony says, shuffling forward so he can pin Pepper between himself and the sink.

“I never said you were a superhero.”

“Less lecturing, more . . . fun things with your mouth.”

“It’s late and I have to work in the morning.”

“What if I said you could take the day off?”

“I would say that’s breaking the rules and that you need to be in bed resting.”

“It’s just a few sore ribs, I can take it, Potts.”

Tilting her head back, Pepper smiles up at Tony as he looms over her. The expression on her face is hard to read; Tony can’t tell if he’s just convinced her to climb into bed with him or if she’s plotting something diabolical. While he hopes it’s the former, he can’t lie and say he’s not intrigued at what else might be going on in that mind of hers.

Tony gets his answer in the form of a perfectly manicured index finger to the ribs; not hard enough to cause any serious pain, but enough to make him wince and reflexively arch away from her.

“Just a few sore ribs, huh?”

“Touché, Potts.”

“You’ll be alright. Just take it easy the rest of the week and maybe I’ll come over one night.”

Tony isn’t one to sit still, but the prospect of Pepper Potts in his bed is just about enough to convince him to do as she says. Before he can agree or ask a question, Pepper’s hands are sliding across his chest and up into his hair.

Her mouth is warm and soft on his own, inviting, as she pulls him to her. It’s a nice feeling, one that nearly takes Tony’s breath away each time she surprises him like this, and _god_ does he want to wrap an arm around her waist and hoist her onto the vanity. He could probably do it if he tried hard enough.

As they kiss, Pepper is careful, calculating, gentle with the way her mouth moves across Tony’s busted one. She can still taste the faint hint of something metallic as she slips her tongue into his mouth, and the grunt she earns is one of approval, not of pain or discomfort. A hand slides to her hip, Tony’s fingers flexing against the fabric of her leggings and she sighs just before pulling away.

“Hey!” Tony complains. “Things were just getting good!”

“There’ll be plenty more where that came from if you rest up and stay out of that death suit.”

“You’re being serious about this whole taking it easy thing, aren’t you?”

Pepper twists out from between Tony and the vanity, pushing him gently toward the door that leads into his bedroom with one hand while gathering up the contents of the first aid kit with the other.

“I don’t joke about health and safety,” she says, screwing on the cap of the Neosporin. “Now please, go to bed and stay there. I’ll stop by on my lunch tomorrow and check on you.”

“Or you could just stop by my office in the morning and see me then?”

“Your little stunt is going to be all over the news in the morning. You’re staying home where you can’t fuel even more rumors with your face.”

“Did you really just give me permission to skip coming into the office?” Tony asks, just a little too hopeful, as Pepper places the first aid kit back on the top shelf of the linen closet.

“For now, yes. I’m trying to keep your personal life as private as I can; once this story breaks, all that privacy goes away.”

Gesturing for Pepper to go ahead of him, Tony reaches out to turn off the bathroom light before shuffling into his bedroom where he promptly collapses into bed with a heavy, tired sigh.

“You’re too good to me, Potts. I know I say that a lot, but I mean it.”

“I know. JARVIS will remind you when it’s time to take more Advil. Keep up on it or you’re going to be in even more pain than you already are.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay the night?”

“The rules, Tony.”

“Are meant to be broken, Pepper.”

“Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

“That will be all, Miss. Potts.”

* * *

Pepper is dragging her feet when she gets to the office the following morning, exhausted from the lack of sleep she got the night before. It was after midnight before she pulled back into her driveway and even later still before she managed to wind down enough to fall back asleep.

Just as she’d suspected, the morning news cycle on CNN dedicated a large portion of its broadcast to the incident at the border, creating more questions than answers when it came to the grainy footage of a red and gold suit.

“Of course it was reckless. Have you met him?” Pepper half-whispers into her Blackberry as she walks along the hallway toward her office. She doesn’t want to draw too much attention to herself as she walks by a bay of cubicles, certain that at least one person is trying to eavesdrop on her conversation as she walks by. The employees at Stark Industries, while usually reliable, can easily fall into gossip circles and that’s the last thing Pepper needs to be dealing with.

In her office, Pepper puts her phone on speaker while she wrestled with her coat and bag, Rhodey’s voice filling the space as he speaks.

“I don’t know how in the hell he expects me to explain this to the Brass, Pepper.”

“He doesn’t care how. He knows you’ll come up with something,” she says, flipping on her office light as she does. “I told him this was going to end up on the news and he was so . . . flippant about it. I could’ve strangled him, Jim.”

There was a brief pause from Rhodey, followed by a sigh. Pepper can almost see him shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose simultaneously at the thought of cleaning up another one of Tony’s messes.

Pepper takes a seat at her desk and wiggles the mouse to wake her computer screen and responds to Rhodey’s sigh with one of her own.

“The worst part is,” he starts, “is that technically, he did us a favor. I’m not complaining he took out that small sleeper cell, trust me. He’s just made things far more difficult by doing it with the suit that’s not even supposed to exist.”

“Oh, so it was a sleeper cell? Because according to Tony, it was a fully armed militia.”

Rhodey snorts. “He would. Let me see what kind of damage control is going to be necessary on my end and I’ll call you back this afternoon. He coming in today?”

“Yes, please do. And no, I banned him from the building. He’s to stay home and not leave.”

“Good luck with that.”

“I . . . think I convinced him,” she says, surprised to feel the heat rising in her cheeks. Hopefully it doesn’t show in her voice.

“If anyone could, it would be you. I’ll talk to you later, Pepper.”

Rhodey hangs up the phone with a click and Pepper huffs loudly, clicking the button on her mouse a little harder than necessary when going to open her email program. She’s blaming everything on Tony today; the lack of sleep, her overall frustration, the weird, yet not unpleasant feeling that settled in the pit of her stomach as she blushed over the phone while talking to Rhodey. All of it.

As she’s cleaning out her spam folder, there’s a knock on her office door and she can see the silhouette of someone through the heavily frosted glass. Glancing down at the calendar in front of her as she stands, there’s no indication that Tony — and by extension, herself — has a meeting scheduled.

“May I help you?” She asks, opening the door. A man in a blue uniform stands before her, a gorgeous crystal vase full of flowers in hand.

“Ms. Potts? I was told to deliver these to you myself,” he says, extending the vase.

Pepper takes it from him with a soft ‘thank you’ before closing the door, taking two seconds to bury her nose in the soft petals. There’s a small card poking out of the top and when she flips it over, Tony’s initials are scrawled in sharpie across the glossy finish.

There’s the perfect spot for them on the ledge of the window that’s directly behind her desk, so Pepper sets them down and snaps a picture before attaching it to a text message.

**To: Anthony  
From: Pepper**

**» Thanks for the peonies.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> 2020 was terrible, here’s to hoping for something better in 2021!
> 
> Expect more adventures and shenanigans from my chaotic son in the new year!


	16. exception to the rules

There are tissues tucked securely around the collar of Tony’s dress shirt and every thirty seconds or so, Pepper’s hand tips his head up by his chin while simultaneously coming at him with a wedge shaped sponge. He remains still as she presses the soft foam repeatedly across his brow, though the moment she stops, his head tilts back down to the white cards in his hands.

“‘With this information becoming public knowledge, I will be sitting down with my team and the United States Government to discuss a working relationship in regard to the Iron Man —‘ Pepper, who in the hell wrote this?”

There’s another tip of his chin and Tony is once again looking back up at Pepper with a scowl that he hopes gets his displeasure across to her. She’s swapped out the sponge for a makeup brush with a fluffy end and dusts it across his face, making him cough and sputter.

“Potts!”

“You’re going on live, national television and I refuse to be the one who gets blamed for you looking washed out,” she tells him with no sympathy. “Besides, I had to make sure I got that bruise under your eye covered.”

Tony scoffs at this and waves the cards in Pepper’s face as he pulls the tissues from his shirt, tossing them on her desk.

“I’m not reading these, you can forget it.”

“I’m not arguing with you on this. What’s written on those cards has been approved by the PR department’s manager and will serve as the official company statement. Take it up with Obadiah if you don’t like it.”

“I’m not sitting down with the US government either.”

“You can take that up with Rhodey.”

“You already have the meeting scheduled, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Thursday at two o’clock in the big conference room. Rhodey will be serving as the Air Force liaison and heading the meeting.”

Tony glances back down at the cards in his hand and taps them on Pepper’s desk as he thinks for a moment. 

“Do the government suits know what this meeting entails?” he asks, leaning forward in the chair, elbows on his knees.

“Not yet,” Pepper says, her hands on Tony’s shoulders as she smooths the wrinkled fabric of his suit jacket. “They’ll be briefed as soon as the press conference is finished. Rhodey will be in your office on a conference call with them.”

Tony claps his hands and pushes himself to his feet as he looks around Pepper’s office, almost as if he’s just now realizing he’s lost. He runs a hand through his hair, pretending he doesn’t see the tension in Pepper’s jaw as he messes with what he’s sure was a very professional hairstyle, and sighs.

“What if I,” he starts, dropping his hands to his sides, “said I don’t want to do the press conference?”

“Are you being serious?”

Tony flinches reflexively, ready for the lecture that usually follows such statements, but is surprised at how casual Pepper’s tone is, almost as if she’s just asked him what time it is.

“Yes?” He asks, still unsure of himself.

Pepper leans down and opens the second desk drawer from the top and extracts two new sets of cards, one yellow and one green, both with the Stark Industries logo printed in black ink on the back. She holds each of them up and raises a brow.

“We can’t cancel the press conference, but we can change the announcement. No one in the media hall knows the specifics — though I’m sure some are speculating — other than we have an important announcement. If you’re not ready to announce Iron Man, I have plans B and C right here.”

“You really created two back up press conference ideas?”

“Mhm. The new satellite project is plan B and the scholarship fund is plan C. Both equally important announcements. I even have the press packets ready to go. Just say the word and I’ll have them swapped.”

“What would you do? You know, if you were me.”

“I’d do what made me comfortable,” Pepper says, picking up the cards with the Iron Man announcement on them. “You can’t keep this a secret forever but that doesn’t mean it can’t be for a little while longer.”

She has a point, that much is true. Something of this magnitude never stays a secret for long and Tony would much rather be the one to announce it instead of it being leaked to the press when he least expects it.

“So the scholarship fund, huh?” He asks while Pepper organizes the Iron Man cards into their correct order. “Think it’ll be enough to keep the masses at bay for a bit?”

“I wouldn’t have gone through the trouble if I didn’t. You want to see the cards?”

There’s a brief moment of hesitation before Tony nods, hand outstretched for the cards. He takes them, looks at the one on top briefly, and hands them back to Pepper.

“I can’t,” he says, exhaling as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “I’ve got to announce the Iron Man thing. If I didn’t think it was time, I wouldn’t have suggested it in the first place.”

The press conference has been in the works for two weeks, and while for the most part, Tony’s felt indifferent about it, he’s coming to realize in the minutes before he’s due to step up to a podium in front of a room of journalists that he’s not quite so indifferent about the announcement after all. The arc reactor, the suit, all of it, he realizes is highly personal, a constant reminder of the months spent in an Afghani cave with a target on his back.

Suit or no suit, Tony Stark is still a human being and susceptible to vulnerability.

“You really came up with backup plans in case I changed my mind?” He asks again, still a little incredulous at Pepper’s thoroughness.

“It’s a big decision and I don’t think it’s fair not to give you an out if you’re not ready. Either way, I’m proud of you.”

There is absolutely no reason for Tony’s stomach to flip at Pepper’s words, and yet he can’t help the boyish grin spreading across his face as he watches her lean her hip against the desk.

“You’re proud of me, Potts?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows. “Can you say that again so I can record it this time? I want to play it back anytime I want.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” she says, giving him an affectionate eye roll. “And to think you’d grown as a person.”

“I’ve grown! I’m not sleeping with a bunch of random women — just one very pretty one,” he adds quietly. “And I eat the occasional vegetable. That’s progress.”

“Potatoes are nothing but carbs,” Pepper tells him before sliding her hand to the nape of Tony’s neck and pulling his mouth to hers.

Everything she’s doing goes against the most basic rules she made Tony agree to before they started whatever this causal thing is they have, but Pepper can’t seem to care, not with the way Tony so easily slides an arm around her, the other pushing into her hair.

The connection is instant every time, electrically charged and always leaving Pepper wanting more. With Tony, it’s different, but in a good way, and always far more enjoyable than she ever expects it to be. 

“What was that for?” Tony mumbles, his mouth still against Pepper’s. “What about your rules and us and not doing this at work?”

“There are always exceptions,” she mumbles back. “I made the rules, I’m allowed to break them.”

“Trust me, I’m not complaining.”

Tony can feel the slight uptick of Pepper’s mouth against his before she gives him one final kiss and pulls away. Her cheeks are tinged pink, blue eyes sparkling with mischief, and Tony finds himself unable to keep from cracking a smile.

“That’s enough,” Pepper announces, her hands immediately working to straighten Tony’s tie, his hair, his suit jacket. She swipes a thumb across his bottom lip for good measure, thoroughly cleaning away any lingering trace of her lipstick, and picks up Tony’s cards and her Blackberry.

“We’ve got five minutes to get you downstairs.”

“That means we have four minutes alone to ourselves,” Tony counters as Pepper slips her arm into his.

“No time,” she says as they head toward her office doors.

“Four minutes is plenty.”

Even as they reach the elevators, Tony is still trying to talk Pepper into turning around and going back to her office and she pushes him into the waiting elevator with a firm ‘no.’

“You sure you’re ready to handle all the interview requests and media inquiries?” Tony asks as he presses a button on the elevator panel.

“I handled you coming back from Afghanistan, did I not? I know the routine. No in-person interviews, only generic representative statements. The usual. But what if Oprah calls? That’s the real question.”

“Oh, I so want Oprah. Potts, get me Oprah, even if she doesn’t call — but I’m sure she will.”

“Oprah, got it. And Tom Cruise?”

“Don’t play with my emotions like that, Potts.”

“Okay, okay. Yes to Oprah and Tom Cruise if he ever calls.”

As they step off the elevator together, Pepper pauses to give Tony one final glance over and nods when she’s satisfied with his appearance.

“You’re going to do great. Give it a few weeks and everything will have settled down after this,” Pepper tells him. The smile on her face is all Tony needs to see to know she’s being serious.

“You’re going in, right?”

“Of course. I’ll be right behind you the whole time.”

“Actually . . . Can you be out in the crowd? Near the back? It would be nice to have a friendly face out in the sea of pariahs.”

Pepper’s smile widens more than Tony thought possible and she nods. “Of course I will. I’ll be in the back row, aisle seat on your right.”

“I’m taking you out after this.”

“We don’t do dates.”

“It’s not a date, just a thank you. We’ll fly to New York, go see a show or something. How about the one where the guy gets out of prison for stealing bread and lives in an opera house?”

“Those are two vastly different musicals, but we’ll discuss it later,” Pepper says, trying to get Tony through the door and into the media hall.

He pauses and turns to look at her, just needing to feel a sense of calm.

“Pepper, I . . .”

“What is it, Tony?”

He doesn’t respond, just leans down and kisses her quickly on the cheek before pulling open the door and stepping into the sea of cameras and microphones.


	17. distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper's a bit distracted. Maybe Tony can help.

“Oh, and then I have that meeting with Obadiah after I meet with the PR rep. And of course I still need to go to the grocery store, not that I’m home enough to actually eat. I’m sure all of the produce will go bad before I even have the _chance_ to think about fixing dinner at home.”

Pepper arrived at Tony’s Malibu home fifteen minutes ago, ten of which have been spent in his bed, and seven of those spent _not_ focusing on the task at hand. He got her out of her clothes quickly enough (potentially setting a new record), but now she won’t — or can’t — stop talking.

“Pepper.”

“Mhm?”

Tony props himself up with one hand, the other brushing Pepper’s hair out of her face. She looks so pretty, he thinks, her hair pulled messily from its ever tight ponytail and splayed across his pillows. She’s smiling at him at least, which is a good sign — a sign that she’s not totally against being here — but he would really like it if she would be a little more into it at least.

“You seem a bit distracted, Potts. And all this talk about work is killing the mood.”

“No. Okay, maybe a little. But it’s fine, I’m fine,” she insists, reaching up to forcefully pull Tony’s mouth back to hers.

He should pull back, make sure that she really is okay, but her mouth is far too inviting and her hands are busy exploring every last inch of him in her immediate reach and if Pepper says she’s fine, she’s fine.

There’s the sweet spot, just behind Pepper’s left ear, that Tony happened across the night Pepper finally agreed to trying a casual relationship. With a little attention to that very spot, he can have her turning to putty in his hands in a near instant. When there are no deadlines or things penciled in on his calendar, Tony prefers to keep Pepper in bed for as long as possible, though something tells him today isn’t going to be nearly as long and drawn-out as he’d originally hoped.

As he trails his mouth along Pepper’s jaw and to the spot behind her ear, Tony’s decides to let his hands wander over her skin, fingers trailing deftly over her hipbones and up her sides. She’s into it, that much he can tell just by the way she arches into him. Maybe if he can keep her distracted and in the mood for a little bit longer, he won’t have to rush things.

“Shit, I left that paperwork on my desk.”

Tony stills above Pepper and sighs, her flesh prickling as he does so.

“Pepper,” he says sternly, propping himself up once again. 

“No, I’m sorry. I thought the hard part would be over now that we got the press conference out of the way, but I was wrong and now everyone wants a piece of Tony Stark. I on the other hand could _really_ use a distraction. Just . . . I dunno, use your mouth more or something.”

It comes as no surprise to Tony to learn Pepper’s been more distracted than not in the days after the press conference. She’s been pulled into so many meetings and phone interviews that he sometimes forgets she really does still work for him. He sees more of her at the house than he does at the office despite her being his assistant, though it seems odd to complain about the temporary arrangement.

Eventually the press will die down and life will go back to normal — or as close to normal as life can be with the world knowing about the existence of superheroes and the arc reactor sitting in the middle of his chest. It’s no wonder Pepper has been so on edge, the press can be brutal on a good day and Tony’s just given them a field day. With everything that’s been going on, he was a bit surprised to get a call from Pepper in the middle of the afternoon that wasn’t somehow related to work or the press and he can’t help but feel at least _a little_ smug that she was the one to suggest she come over.

“Use my mouth more, huh? I could talk about skipping the next board meeting or that new Lockheed Martin contact you’ve been on my ass about.”

“Oh, and who’s killing the mood _now_?”

“Casual sex with you is supposed to be far more fun than this, Potts. I need you to relax a little.”

“I’m _trying._ ”

“Are you always this tense?”

“Only when you’re involved.”

“I would just like to point out that I’ve been trying to get you in the mood for the last fifteen minutes.”

“Who says I’m not in the mood?”

“Your mouth, apparently.”

“Now you’re just exaggerating.”

“Are you really going to argue with me right now?”

“Only because you started arguing with me first. I’m the one who called you, remember? Clearly I’m in the mood.”

“All of you except for your brain. Literally.”

“I can’t just turn it off. I’ve tried.”

Pepper props herself up on her elbows, now only mere inches from Tony’s face, and sighs as she closes her eyes. She’s stressed and tired and could probably use a rather strong cup of coffee after the day she’s had. Or wine, wine is good too.

In a surprising move, Tony presses a kiss to the tip of Pepper’s nose and uses the pad of his index finger to gently push against her forehead until she’s flush with the pillows again.

“What’re you doing?”

“Getting you to relax. Now close your eyes.”

Pepper does as instructed, though her eyebrows are knit close together as if she’s concentrating on something very important.

“Relax, Potts. I haven’t seen you wound this tight since you tried to jump me in your driveway after we saw Mission Impossible.”

Pepper’s eyes snap open and she swats at Tony, though he captures her by the wrist and brings her hand to his mouth, taking the time to kiss each of her fingers before lowering her hand.

“Now, now, Miss. Potts. You just relax, I know what I’m doing.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she mutters before closing her eyes again.

“Have faith Potts. Have I ever done you wrong? Wait. Don’t answer that.”

Aside from the slight snort she expels, Pepper remains quiet, her eyebrows still scrunched even as Tony trails kisses down her neck and to her collarbone. As Tony moves from collarbone to shoulder, he can feel the tension slowly leaving Pepper’s body as she relaxes more beneath him.

There’s a pattern of freckles on her shoulder that Tony has taken a liking to, his mouth flitting over each one while simultaneously drawing a finger down the column of Pepper’s neck and down her breastbone. His touch is feather light, even as he traces over her hip once more, his fingers skating down her thigh.

His mouth finds the spot behind her ear once again and he swears to God that Pepper _purrs_ for him. He’s a bit more pleased with himself now, having gotten Pepper to stop talking for at least five minutes while he works his magic, so he grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls just enough to earn him a satisfied, breathy sigh.

A slender leg comes up to wrap around his waist and Tony does everything he can to keep from giving into the temptation as Pepper urges his hips down toward her own. It would be so easy to push into her, to take what he wants, but he’s trying to be a better person and he feels he owes this to Pepper after all of the shit he’s inadvertently put her through. Instead, he kisses Pepper on the mouth, hard, his teeth knocking with hers as he slides a hand down to her thigh. He adjusts, bringing her leg down from around his waist, and can feel the puzzlement scrunch her features as she goes somewhat limp beneath him, more out of annoyance than anything else.

“What the hell?” she groans, peering up at Tony with a flush that’s creeping from high in her cheeks and down her neck.

“I’m a new man and I’m putting your needs ahead of mine.”

“You’ve got a strange way of showing it.”

“You’re the most impatient person I know, Potts,” Tony says with a shake of his head before sliding further down her body.

“Where’re you going? Get back up here, things were finally starting to get interesting.”

“I’m going places where even Obadiah Stane doesn’t exist,” he tells her with a wicked grin before disappearing the rest of the way beneath the sheet.

“Oh, now who has jo— _oh_.”

It’s as if the switch in her brain, the one responsible for work and stress and deadlines and structure, is flipped off in an instant the moment Tony’s mouth is on her. For the first time in what seems like weeks, Pepper’s brain is blissfully _silent_ , her responsibilities nonexistent.

Instead, she focuses on the feel of Tony’s hands against her skin, the tightness of the grip on her thigh, the inviting warmth of his mouth as he all but devours her. On occasion, Pepper still questions her decision to start sleeping with her boss, but those doubts always seem to disappear the moment she finds herself in Tony’s bed.

Pepper can feel the coil tightening in her lower belly, a slow buildup of pleasure that’s threatening to burst if Tony would _adjust_ a little. It’s almost as if he knows just how close she is and is purposely stringing her along, making her wait as he takes his sweet time with her. It’s infuriating, really. If this were anything else — a board meeting especially — Tony would be rushing through it, doing everything in his power to get things done and move on to something he’s far more interested in. Tony’s always on the move, never wanting to slow down, unless it involves going down on her in the early evening hours, it seems. She would complain, would insist Tony stop playing around and _do his job_ , but her words have been replaced with something far more primal and her main focus has shifted to chasing whatever bit of pleasure she can find.

Bucking up against his mouth, Pepper manages a strangled cry of “more” and Tony obliges with a slow swipe of his tongue up to her clit that he’d purposely been ignoring. There’s a hitch in Pepper’s breathing while one hand fists into Tony’s hair, holding him in place as if he’d ever dream of disappearing from between her thighs. Her hips rock against his mouth more urgent now, her muted whimpers growing louder with each steady and rhythmic flick of his tongue until everything is white-hot and electrifying.

The grip Tony has on her thigh doesn’t loosen and instead tightens, his fingertips digging hard enough into her skin to bruise as he follows the stuttered rolling of her hips as she comes against his mouth, stopping only once he’s sure she’s completely sated.

Pepper has gone limp beneath him and she lets out a soft, airy laugh, wriggling slightly as Tony presses kisses along the inside of her thigh, the stubble on his cheek tickling. When he peeks out from beneath the sheet, Tony is grinning up at her though his usual sharp angles have gone fuzzy at the edges as she fights through the delicious haze of endorphins that has made everything temporarily _wonderful_.

Loosening his grip from around her thigh, Tony leaves a spattering of kisses across Pepper’s hipbones and abdomen, the swell of her breasts and shoulders.

“You were saying, Miss. Potts?” Tony asks as he shifts back atop her, his knee purposely nudging its way between her legs.

“You talk too much,” she complains as she slides a hand to the nape of his neck. “You’re ruining the moment.”

“I’d have to disagree.”

“Oh _hush_.”

Pepper tilts her head up, her lips finding the underside of Tony’s jaw, and murmurs happily against his skin even as she feels his fingers digging into her hip as he shifts her further into the mound of pillows. The soft kisses from moments ago are gone and Pepper finds that she doesn’t mind much.

In a rare move, Tony supplies no quips and instead takes a few moments to enjoy the feeling of Pepper’s mouth on his skin. He’s rarely this relaxed, rarely escapes the near-constant weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders no matter how fine the glass of scotch, and he wants to revel in how weightless he feels. It’s Pepper, he realizes. It’s her laugh and her kind smile and the positive energy she’s always radiating that brings him peace, even if it’s only temporary.

A leg hooks itself around Tony’s waist for a second time and he cuts his gaze to hers, a curious eyebrow raising as Pepper tries to encourage his hips down to her own.

“You sure? I can wait, I’m getting pretty good at it.”

The huskiness in Tony’s voice says _I can wait, but it’s damn near killing me_ , and Pepper knows it. She also knows he’s terrible at waiting for anything.

“You of all people should know that when a woman tells you yes, they mean yes.”

Tony nuzzles into Pepper, nipping at her porcelain skin just enough to sting but not leave any marks — he knows the rules — before pushing into her with a fevered jerk of his hips.

They become a tangle of knotted limbs and breathy sighs, of hands and mouths never lingering in one place for too long, until Pepper’s name is leaving Tony’s mouth in a strangled cry.

He doesn’t last nearly as long as he would’ve liked, but that’s the least of his worries as he buries his face into the spot where Pepper’s neck and collarbone meet, pleasure rippling through his body as deft fingers gently scratch up his back.

In a last-ditch effort to not crush Pepper completely under his weight, Tony shifts slightly to the left and collapses half on the mattress, half on top of Pepper. An arm is tossed over her waist and she tangles her legs with Tony’s as he lies there with closed eyes.

The soft glow emanating from the arc reactor situated in Tony’s chest is mesmerizing and Pepper finds herself watching the glow rise and fall along the wall, rapidly at first and then a more slow and even rhythm as Tony’s breathing returns to normal. He looks at her then with a similar dreamy expression to her own and runs his hand up and down her side.

“Did you . . . because if not, I can —.”

It’s the sudden feeling of Pepper’s mouth on his that causes the rest of Tony’s sentence to go unheard and her fingers wrap around his wrist as he slides his hand down over her hip.

“To answer your question, no, but it’s fine. I wasn’t really expecting to,” she tells him, bringing his hand to her lips so she can kiss each of his fingertips like he’d done to her earlier.

There’s a skeptical look on Tony’s face that makes Pepper laugh and she offers a hurried explanation.

“No, really! Not that I don’t appreciate all your hard work, but I knew what to expect. I know my body a little bit better than you do, is all.”

“Mhm . . . you know, if you’d just stay the night, I’d guarantee I’d know you better than you know yourself. All I need is three, uninterrupted hours, and maybe some scotch.”

“I already broke one rule for you this month, I’m not breaking another.”

“Think of it less as breaking a rule and more of bending one.”

Pepper makes a noncommittal sound and reaches her hand up to trace lightly around the contours of Tony’s face, her fingers trailing along his cheekbones and nose, beneath his eyes and across his lips. It’s soothing in a way, Pepper and her gentle touch. She strokes the pad of her index finger down Tony’s forehead and between his brows to the top of his nose, each pass causing his eyes to droop closed that much more until he’s lying next to her asleep, tangled limbs and all.

* * *

When he wakes, the sky is no longer multiple shades of blues and oranges and pinks and yellows, but instead an inky shade of black. Tony squints in the dimly lit room as he rolls onto his back in the middle of his bed to stretch, his mouth open wide in a yawn.

He remains in bed for a moment, gathering enough motivation to propel him into a seated position. The bed is unsurprisingly empty, though Tony can’t help but feel the slight emptiness he feels when the realization hits him. There’s no sign of Pepper, no scattered clothes along the floor; even his have been picked up it seems, his belt curled and sitting atop his dresser.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Tony scrubs a hand down his face and grabs for the rumpled sheet as he stands, pulling it around his waist.

“J, what time is it?”

“It is one-thirteen in the morning, Sir,” the AI responds as Tony steps into the master bathroom, squinting at the bright light that greets him.

The mirror isn’t fogged, but the shower walls are covered in a thin sheen of water droplets, an indication that it’s been used recently, and there’s a bottle of unfamiliar body wash sitting amongst the myriad of his own things. He knows it’s from Bath and Body Works by just the cap, and he knows that because Pepper has forced him to endure that unbearable store on more than one occasion. He would pay someone good money to never make him smell another Winter Candy Apple candle or Champagne Toast bottle of hand soap again.

It’s been hours since he and Pepper were last in bed together, and yet the shower’s been used more recently than not. It’s impossible for Tony’s mind not to wander, try as he might, not when he knows for a fact that Pepper stayed longer than she normally allows herself to.

The hot water is welcome against his skin and sore muscles and Tony finds himself in the shower longer than usual, his thoughts being pulled in fifty different directions all at once. Technical specs and suits and satellite imaging and Pepper and charity functions and Pepper and security upgrades and mathematical equations and _Pepper._

He tells himself he’s just worried that she left so late to go home. Maybe he should see if she sent him a text. That’s the responsible thing to do and Pepper is nothing if not responsible.

As he steps out of the shower, Tony reaches for a towel and first dries his hair and then his face while he continues to drip on the bathmat. There, in the middle of his foggy bathroom mirror is a simple smiley face. It’s not clear, as if he’s just drawn it in the steam himself, but it’s new enough — Tony is certain he would’ve noticed such a thing way before now if it’d been placed there days ago instead of only an hour or two.

“JARVIS? Do I have any unread messages or unopened voicemails from Ms. Potts?”

“Ms. Potts left you a voicemail at twelve-oh-two. She made it home safely and says she’ll see you tomorrow. Would you like me to play the full thing, Sir?”

“No, that’s okay, J. I’ll take a listen in the morning. Night.”

“Goodnight, Sir.”


	18. getting laid is not the problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting laid is not the problem, but Pepper can't tell Emily that.

“I love you, so don’t take this the wrong way, but you really need to get laid.”

There’s a loud crack as Pepper’s head connects with the roof of her car, followed by a string of whispered curses as she backs out of the car with a sleeping Pippa on one shoulder and the diaper bag on the other. As she walks around the back of the car, she glares at Emily who looks somewhat sheepishly at her.

“Sorry, should’ve waited until your head was clear of the car,” Emily says, clicking the button on Pepper’s key fob to engage the locking mechanism.

“I’m insulted.” If there’s one thing she _doesn’t_ need, it’s to get laid. Not that she’s going to tell Emily that.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Emily insists as she busies herself with trying to unlock her front door. Pepper allows her to struggle a few more times with the keys before clearing her throat.

“You’re still using my keys,” she says. “Yours are in your bag.”

“Whoever says pregnancy brain goes away after you have a baby is a liar.”

“It’s probably the lack of sleep.”

Emily sighs heavily and nods in agreement before sliding her house key in the door lock and turning. “Yeah, you’re probably onto something with that.”

Inside, Pepper allows the diaper bag strap to slide from her shoulder and fall on the couch with a soft thump. Pippa shifts as she’s jostled and Pepper stills, but the little girl doesn’t open her eyes.

_Getting laid is not the problem here,_ Pepper thinks as she mindlessly sways with her goddaughter asleep on her chest, one hand on her back, the other supporting her from underneath. _Worrying about someone at work finding out is the problem._

Things have been different between Tony and Pepper since the press conference, though she’s still not sure what the difference is; all she knows is she can feel it whenever she and Tony find themselves alone in a room somewhere. She wishes she could talk to Emily about it, to hear what her best friend thinks ( _you’re sleeping with your_ boss _? Oh my god, Pepper!_ ) and ask her for advice and tell her all of her secrets.

“Switch me,” Emily says as she comes back into the living room. In her hand is a glass of water and a few aspirin and she reaches out for Pippa. “I’m going to go put her down. Hopefully she’ll sleep for another hour or so. The farmer’s market clearly wore her out.”

Pepper transfers Pippa from her arms to Emily’s and settles on the couch as the pair disappear up the stairs. She’s just picked up the water and aspirin from the coffee table when Emily returns, a baby monitor in her hand, and takes the free end of the couch.

“So obviously I didn’t articulate myself properly,” she starts, careful to not continue until she’s sure Pepper’s swallowed the pills (the last thing she needs is for her to spit water across the couch at her). “What I should have said was that I think it would do you some good to get out, see some people, go on a couple of dates, enjoy yourself.”

“Who says I don’t go on dates and enjoy myself?” Pepper asks, feeling somewhat defensive even though she’s not sure why. 

“When was the last time you went on a date?”

“Why are you answering my questions with more questions?”

“Just tell me, Pepper.”

“I don’t know, it’s been a while.” _Do ‘not dates’ with my boss count?_ _“_ Work has me stressed right now; if I’m not on the phone with someone, I’m doing a televised interview or writing blanket statements to give to the press. It’s been a lot the last few weeks.”

There’s a smile quirking at the corners of Emily’s lips that makes Pepper question ever allowing this conversation to continue past the few exchanged words in the driveway.

“What?” she asks. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately!”

“Which is exactly why you need to get out and meet someone. There’s this great guy that Brian works with and I think you guys would really get along.”

Ah, so when Emily called her to see if she wanted to go with her and Pippa to the farmer’s market, it wasn’t just because she wanted to catch up with Pepper on one of her rare free days. She should’ve known there was an ulterior motive behind the last minute phone call — Emily is just as organized and structured as Pepper.

Pepper is quiet for several moments, trying to determine how to best broach the topic; there is no easy way to explain that she doesn’t need to be set up with one of Brian’s coworkers without causing Emily to ask more questions, so she leans into it instead.

“Well, do you have a picture of him at least?”

“A picture? Of course I do. I even have a phone number.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a short one, but I promise this little tease will be well worth it come chapter 19.


End file.
